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uglypastels · 2 years

Note

Riding Eddie Munson's thigh 😍

straight to the point, almost like this fic haha

warnings: smut (18+ minors DNI) pwp, thigh riding, fingering, swearing, somewhat dom energy from both characters (but mostly Eddie)

Eddie munson requests!! // support writers with comments and reblogs // masterlist in bio

Perhaps you had started to feel a bit too at home in Eddie’s trailer. It wasn’t even that your own house was so shit. But your parents were always working, and your siblings… well, nothing was interesting about those dweebs, so Eddie easily became your go-to person to hang out with. It was an easy choice too, him being not only your best friend but boyfriend.

You burst through the door without knocking or a previous announcement and found him sitting on the couch, guitar in hand, strumming the strings lazily. He looked up, the shock leaving his eyes as soon as he saw it was you.

‘Well, this is a pleasant surprise,’ He smiled as you walked over to sit next to him.

‘Heya, Munchy,’ you sat down and kissed him on the cheek. ‘Missed you today.’

‘Good that’s solved, then.’ He put his guitar away to lean against the wall. As soon as he was sure that the instrument was stable and wouldn’t accidentally tip over, his attention was back on you. He pulled you into an embrace, squeezing you tight like only he could, and he kissed your jaw. It was a quick peck, nothing but his need to show affection quickly and earnestly, but it still managed to leave you feeling all fluttery inside.

‘I missed you too, by the way,’ he mumbled against your skin. One of his hands released you from his hug and travelled down to meet the bare skin of your leg. The cold metal of his rings was a sensation very much welcomed as the day was burning hot. A smile wiped over your lips but was quickly covered by Eddie’s as his kisses continued.

You were both leaning sideways, and it quickly got uncomfortable, so Eddie helped you get up on his lap. You threw your leg over his. His hands found their spot on your waist but were casually making their way down to the hem of your skirt.

‘I haven’t seen this before,’ he commented on the piece of clothing.

‘It’s like 100 degrees outside, I’m sorry I’m not wearing my black jeans to match.’ You smiled, pulling at the chain connected to his belt loops.

‘No, I like it.’ He pulled it up lightly, but you quickly smacked his hand away– lightly, playfully. But Eddie kept the act going.

‘Don’t get shy with me now, sweetheart.’ He kissed down your collarbone,’You’d almost make me believe that I haven’t fucked you just a day ago.’

‘If anything,’ you kissed him, then pulled away with his bottom lip between your teeth, ‘i fucked you.’

‘Mmm, a bit of both,’ he chuckled, the excitement growing within him. You could see it in the tightness growing in his trousers, as well as how jumpy he was getting. His leg was bopping up and down with the energy he was trying to get rid of. Or perhaps he was trying to rile you up, as the movement caused you to move up and down his leg too, and the material of his jeans created friction and a feeling, a heat, inside of you that made you go crazy.

Before you knew it, you moaned his name. It was soft, barely audible, but Eddie heard it, giving him the confidence he needed to keep going.

‘That’s right, say my name, baby,’ he couldn’t say the words without smiling. Your skirt was now entirely pulled up over your stomach, and his hands were on your ass. ‘Fuck, it sounds so pretty coming from you.’

His hand moved down, over your thigh and between your legs. You let him, perhaps too eagerly, and the touch of his fingers over your underwear added just that extra bit of attention that you needed to your body. Another moan filled the room.

‘And already so wet for me. I don’t even have to do anything.’ His gorgeous smile burned a fire inside you. He could tell you anything, as long as it was accompanied by that smile. It melted you, in and out. ‘Makes me almost think the only reason you come here is to get off.’

‘You give yourself too much credit, Eddie,’ you giggled, and Eddie joined in. Your relationship was like no other (or, at least, like no other in Hawkins, Indiana). You dared each other, pulled out different sides to each other. There was no insult to a little jab here and there. You were both comfortable enough, with yourself and your relationship, to know that jokes like that meant nothing but a little laugh.

‘Maybe so, but I’m still the only one that can get you to cum, isn’t that right?’ There was that exact confidence. ‘But if you don’t need me, go right ahead.’ He let his hands go, letting them drop to his sides on the couch. All his movements halted, and it only took a second for you to realise what he meant.

Slowly, you started moving over his thigh, pushing deep to get that friction back. It worked to an extent, but you would never admit to him that it wasn’t half as good as what he could do with his fingers, or that godforsaken mouth of his. No, you wouldn’t give him that satisfaction. He was already enjoying it too much. Eddie smiled as he watched you get off on his leg. He wished he had his camera near him, so he could take a picture of you. The way you sat there, in all this pure erotic, glory– absolutely beautiful.

‘Take a picture, it will last longer,’ you smiled, not even realising that that was his exact thoughts moments before. You had just noticed him staring, looking at you like you were a piece of art… not that you would ever call yourself that. You weren’t that self-obsessed.

‘I wish, baby.’ The lack of touch bothered him more than you, so his hands quickly found your body again. In the meantime, you never stopped your steady rhythm. Although it was getting faster, the more you felt the need to reach that final step. It was slowly nearing, but whatever you did, it wasn’t enough. Eddie could see it too.

‘Need help?’ he asked. You nodded, breathing out heavily in gasps, but it wasn’t enough for your boyfriend.

‘You got to speak up.’

‘Get me off, Eddie, please, I’m so close.’ And he didn’t need to be told twice. His fingers quickly found the edge of your underwear again and slipped between them. He drew circles over your clit, quick, with no mercy. The curses left your mouth with your breath as he kept going. Soon, your vision was spinning, black with sparks all around as pleasure overwhelmed you. Your hold on Eddie’s shoulders slackened, and if it wasn’t for his hold on your waist, you weren’t sure if you would have been able to keep your position now.

‘Still think I give myself too much credit?’ he asked, kissing your forehead.

‘Fuck you,’ you said through gritted teeth. Eddie just smiled lazily.

‘Wasn’t that what you were trying to do this entire time?’

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#eddie munson smut #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #smut #fluff #imagine #blurb #fanfiction #fanfic #fic #stranger things smut #stranger things fanfiction

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hpimaginesandblurbs · 3 years

Note

can u do more sub harry or neville with mommy kink smut and soft dom george with innocence kink smut please? i love your writting <33

pairing: george weasley x reader

warning(s): 18+, fingering, mentions of oral (female receiving), mentions of handjobs, innocence kink

a/n: this was supposed to be a blurb but i just couldn’t stop. i decided to go with george because i don’t write for him as often as the others. and just a reminder that requests are still closed so if you send me anything right now it will likely get deleted. as always, enjoy!

Kissing George was an experience you thought was like no other - not that you had much experience to go by. George was your first real boyfriend, therefore your first everything that comes along with that.

In the weeks you had been dating, neither of you had taken it further than kissing - you because you were too nervous about your inexperience and him because he respected you too much to push anything on you too soon.

And not that you would ever know this, but George was infinitely turned on by your innocence. Every time you blushed at his praise, every time he had to explain a dirty joke to you, every little noise you made when he was kissing you left him rock hard in his trousers.

And tonight he’d be going out on a limb, but he was almost certain that you were ready for a little bit more. He was just waiting for his moment.

It came quick enough. His hands were sliding up your sides, barely grazing the skin on the sides of your stomach, and your thighs clenched together fiercely. Every little thing he did turned you on, but it was all you could do in the moment to ease the ache you felt between your legs.

He broke away from the kiss with a raised brow and a cocky smile, looking at you from where you were both laying on your sides on his bed. “Is my girl turned on?” He asked simply, not wanting to tease you too much.

You immediately felt your skin heat up and your eyes went wide. Flustered and unsure of what to do next, you could only give him back a small nod, doing your best to maintain eye contact with him.

He gave a small chuckle but gave you a playful smile shortly enough, easing your worries slightly. “And would you like me to help you with that?”

You furrowed your brows just slightly, a bit confused. “How?” You asked, knowing full well he knew that you weren’t quite ready to take that step just yet.

“You seem to like my hands. Isn’t that right, baby?” He asked teasingly, a hand slipping down to caress your bare thigh that had been hidden underneath your skirt.

You managed to give a steadier nod than earlier, but your pulse had significantly increased at the prospect of what he was offering.

“Open your legs for me, pretty girl,” he told you, but to your ears it sounded more like a command than anything. A command you so desperately wanted to obey.

You turned slightly on your back and let your legs fall open, your skirt still covering his destination.

“So good for me,” he mused, his lips trailing kisses up your neck, only making you that much more desperate.

“Please,” you whimpered, sure you had never been this aroused in your life.

His head popped up to reveal the shit eating grin he was wearing. “You don’t have to beg for anything tonight. We’ll get there one day,” he said, winking down at you.

Just the thought of one day having to beg for him was enough to send you into a dizzy loop of scenarios in your head. It was enough to distract you from the way his fingers were trailing up your thighs and into your underwear.

You gave a startled noise when you felt his finger trail up and down your slit, feeling for himself just how wet you were for him.

“You’re fucking soaked. Is this all for me?” He asked, looking down at you in awe as his fingers explored your most sensitive spots.

“Yes, George,” you managed to get out before a loud moan fell from your lips when his finger circled your clit. You felt a new flush creep back over your skin, never having made that sort of noise before, not even when you were alone and it was your own hand.

“Don’t be shy. I wanna hear all your pretty little noises,” he said lowly in your ear, pulling away to watch your face.

His fingers were skilled on your skin and careful to never leave your clit. Your orgasm built slowly, but you knew you needed more. You needed those long fingers inside of you, something you had dreamed about ever since you started dating him.

“George,” you whined, bucking your hips into his hand. It was a silent plea for him to move his fingers lower, to put them inside of you, but he wasn’t taking the bait that easy.

“What do you need, pretty girl? Hm? Use your words,” he told you, but once again it sounded a lot like a command.

You couldn't seem to stop blushing as another wave of redness covered your skin at his words. You didn’t know what to say to him, but you were desperate.

“Finger me, please,” you begged, looking up at him with imploring eyes.

He didn’t even have to say the words to agree, the way his pupils dilated so the black overtook the blue was enough to tell you that he wanted nothing more right now. He quickly shifted so he was kneeling between your legs, lightly playing with the hem of your underwear and looking at you with a question in his eyes. When you finally gave him a brave nod, he slowly slid the fabric down your legs and tossed them off the side of the bed.

“Open those legs for me, baby. Let me see just how needy my innocent little girl is,” he said, his hands rubbing your thighs to try and gently coax you into doing as he asked.

Slowly, you let your legs part and exposed yourself to him. You watched him carefully as you did so and he couldn’t seem to take his eyes away from the spot between your legs. It was like watching a man go through a religious experience.

“Look at you, baby,” he said, the awe evident in his voice. His fingers began to slowly trail up your slit again, but this time fully for the purpose of teasing you. “So puffy and red and so fucking wet. Absolutely perfect,” he mused, making your confidence go through the roof. You had never thought one man could make you feel so beautiful when you were this exposed. “Am I the first one to see you like this?” He asked, finally tearing his eyes away to look back up at you.

He knew just as well as you did that he was, in fact, your first everything. You knew he just wanted to hear you say it.

“Only you,” you said softly, but you could practically feel yourself shaking with anticipation.

As if those words flipped a switch inside of him, he was plunging one finger into you slowly, your walls forced to stretch around it. He moved slowly, but it felt so good you couldn’t help but throw your head back and let out a moan.

He kept going, finally slipped a second finger in and curled them in a way that made you see stars. A scream tore its way from your throat and your hips were moving of their own accord, fucking yourself down onto his fingers everytime he pushed inside of you.

“Fuck yourself on my fingers. Just like that, baby. So fucking good,” he told you, his voice having dropped an octave since the last time he spoke.

Knowing it turned him on watching you like this only sent another wave of arousal through you, making you that much wetter and bringing you that much closer to your orgasm.

“You look so perfect right now. One of these days I’m gonna put my head between your legs and put my tongue right where my fingers are. I bet you’ll taste just as good as you look right now,” George told you, his voice just about the only thing that was keeping you in the moment. And the images he was supplying you with were making you shake with arousal.

“Look at me,” he gave as his final command once he felt your walls begin to grip around his fingers. “Look at me when you cum.”

You couldn’t help but obey, forcing your head to lift up from the pillow and your eyes found his. They were blown with lust, it was written clear on his face just how much he wanted you.

Between the look in his eyes and the way he curled his fingers so perfectly, you were tipping over the edge and spiraling into the best orgasm of your life. It took everything you had in you to keep your eyes on him, and he worked you through every second of your climax until you were a shaking, panting mess on his sheets.

He slowly pulled his fingers out of you, forcing you to whine at the sensitivity. But when he lifted his fingers up to his mouth and sucked on them, a whole new rush of arousal ran through you. It was something you had never even thought of, but watching him do it made you near desperate again.

“I was right. You taste like heaven,” he told you when he was done, leaning over your body to catch your lips in his. You could still taste yourself on his tongue, a thought that made you shiver with need, but you quickly forced yourself to calm back down as you got lost in the kiss.

“Did that feel good?” He asked, finally joining you in laying down once more, just as you had begun.

“So good, George,” you told him honestly, still breathless from your orgasm and the kiss that followed. And when the idea struck you, you felt your body move for itself. You reached a hand out to gently run along his belt, your own silent desire to please him creeping up inside of you.

“You don’t have to,” he argued gently, moving to push your hand away.

“I want to,” you said defiantly, the confidence boost he had just given you making you feel as if you could do anything right now. But on second thought… “I just don’t know how,” you told him, looking back down at where your hands were.

Softly, he curled a finger under your chin and lifted your head up, forcing you to look at him. “I can teach you,” he told you, and you watched as his pupils dilated at the thought.

“Yeah?” You asked, still a little unsure.

“Of course, pretty girl,” he said, capturing your lips with his once more, easing all of your nerves.

#harry potter #george weasley #george weasley smut #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #george wealsey drabble

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awkwardkindatries · 3 years

Text

Kinktober day 6: Orgasm Denial

Haldir/reader

NSFW

Words: 1,341

This time however, Haldir has seemed to have exhausted every traditional lesson he could possibly have thought of, and the newer ones that brimmed to the surface simply didn’t seem to do any justice for the point that he wanted to make.

This instance you had followed the wardens out to the forest while they were on their way to patrol, about a third of the way to their post he took notice of you off in the distance. Instantly his anger flared, here you were no armor, no weapon in toe, not thought to your own well being in sight yet again defying the rules he’s put into place to ensure your safety.

Yelling back towards his brothers and the rest of the troops he instructs them to continue forward so that he could escort you back to Lorien, intending to meet them at the first post with a smaller team in tow.

He doesn’t speak to you as he hauls you up onto his horse or on the ride back. It’s unsettling and uncomfortable, the stomping from the animal below you is your only solace as you contemplate just how far this instance went over the line. When you make it to the gates he says nothing to the guards and continues into the realm with a hard set face and a deep anger that he’s been keeping caged in his chest. He keeps his silence as he takes you by the wrist and drags you into his family's home. Pulling you in a ceiling away in partial darkness.

Your heart begins to pace quickly as this Ellon guides you through the rest of their small home before marching into his room, very neat much like it’s owner, and shoving you backwards onto his bed. He stands above you, a glare on his face as his mouth is set in a firm line. You don’t dare move an inch, as he had the high ground and your punishment could become much worse.

“Tell me.” He says

You stare back in puzzlement, tell him what exactly?

Your throat is tight and voice small,

“Tell you what..” you ask

He takes your chin firmly in his hand as he makes you look him in the eye. His voice drops and it’s sharp in intention.

“What will make you listen?”

You have to swallow the lump in your throat and even then your voice comes out shakey, you had no intention of making him so angry with you and so deep down you feel guilty. How long had he been so angry with you, was this the only incident? You suddenly feel slightly less safe without the comfort of his brothers contributing to the penance.

“I just wanted to see you.”

You feel like a child having been caught taking sweets from the kitchen completely at another’s mercy. The longer you sit on his bed, confined inside the walls of his room as he hovers above you, shame begins to set in your stomach. Adverting your eyes, You occasionally squish and rub your thighs together seeking any comfort you can.

“Fine, perhaps a more personal punishment is all you needed.”

In mere seconds he pulls the belt that secures his robes free from around his waist before snatching both of your arms into one hand. Pulling them through the loop he makes, he shoves you backwards before securing you to the slats along the foot board. Giving your bind an experimental tug you realize how tight they are and that you by no means are going anywhere.

His fingers dance around the hem of your trousers as your breath picks up, much deeper now than it was before as your eyes meet in understanding. With an abrupt yank, your pants are down around your knees. He takes your mouth in his, stealing the shudder in your breath as his fingers make their way down the expanse of your stomach.

The harsh whine that crawls up your throat is high and pathetic as his fingers begin to circle their way through your folds. He was firm and thorough in his exploration as he succeeded in riling you up to the point of throbbing. He moves in impatience as he listens closely to the noises that trickle out of you, learning and improving.

He refuses to relent in this harsh stroking motion, demanding your finish in its display, and you are soon to follow. In no time at all you're almost to the top of the mountain that he has guided you upon, ready to jump over the edge the moment he says to. You’re there, looking over the ledge breathless as the the sounds of rushing blood mimic water and the crashing waves below and you could just-

And then nothing. No. No way, why’d he stop?

Your eyes shoot open, incredulous at the audacity he just displayed only to quickly sink back into your place. His eyes remain cold and hard in the lesson he is trying to instill as he rests casually beside you, no hint of frustration on his features.

He watches your breath begin to settle back down before bringing his hand back to your core, starting back the brutal pace he had previously held. Occasionally his finger brushes your entrance, circling around before going back to his patterns. Your whining begins to escalate and yet again he covers your mouth with his as he soaks himself in your positive reception. A moment later you cry out, muffled by the ellon who currently has his tongue down your throat. Two fingers have breached your entrance only to begin immediately scraping against your walls, expertly finding what you so hoped he would. He hits it twice before you start to arch your back in preparation of your nearing orgasm. It’s so close as you close your eyes, white on the horizon as you leave your body in Haldirs care.

Yet again as you think you’re about to see bright white stars in your eyes you’re thrown back to the world. Coming back down from your denial a cold sweat takes you, and your legs begin to shake as your nerves are on fire. Tears come to your eyes in frustration as you turn to Haldir beside you and beg. You beg for forgiveness, for him to touch you, to kiss you, for him to finally give you your orgasm.

And he laughs

He laughs at you as your embarrassment comes to a head, the tears in your eyes fall as your face grows red. He looks down at you much gentler now as his laughter settles down to a smile. He looks down at you as he resettles above you, his hair curtaining the two of you in your own world.

In an even voice he says “ I wonder how that feels, to ask repeatedly and get good results only to be let down.” His eyes remain gentle as he watches you take in his lesson and suddenly the realization hits you like a sack of bricks and you feel awful.

“I’m so sorry Haldir” you whimper in response, now truly understanding the frustration and lack of support he probably felt on a day to day basis. His fingers brush through your hair as his hand rests behind your head.

“I know dearest, as long as you understand.” Wiping the tears from your eyes with his other hand he gives you a chaste kiss as he smiles brightly at you.

“I think you’ve learned your lesson, how about your reward?”

#lord of the rings #lotr #elves #lothlorien #lorien #haldir #haldir x reader #haldir/reader #spicy #spicy month 2021

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darkorderaf · 3 years

Note

hi!! can i request number 9 with jon moxley from the small details for fictional kisses prompt list? thank you, love!! i can’t wait to read it if you decide to do it!! <3

Yes, of course!! I’m always delighted to write Jon for you! I hope you like it. <3

Pairing: Jon Moxley x OFC. Prompts: Unbuttoning your lover’s shirt, pressed against the wall. Rating: M. Warnings/Content: Smutty smut. A little rough but nothing super intense. Word Count: 1,767.

(I don’t own gif; credit to audreyhrnes!)

Jon hated wearing suits but damn could he wear the hell out of them when someone finally managed to scam him into it. And she had. Sort of. Just for a night. She grinned to herself as she watched him tug on his tie, pace near the far wall of the room. The attempt to hide her smirk behind her champagne glass was caught by one Britt Baker and the good doctor sauntered over. She settled back against the drink table and grabbed one of her own.

“He is hating every minute of this, isn’t he?”

Britt gestured towards Jon with her glass.

“Oh, for sure,” she answered with a nod. She eyed Jon across the way and the look on his face when he saw that Eddie wasn’t also in a suit was priceless. As blue as his eyes were, she could see how wide they were clear across the room. “Eddie and I figured we might pull a rib on him, tell him that we would all be dressed nice. God, he fought against the tie like a dog with a collar.”

She had wrongly assumed that Jon wouldn’t mind the tie because of that correlation. She had seen all of his matches. But shit, they had almost been late because of that tie. He had threatened to tie her up with it and she should have known better than to dare him to do just that. Eventually, they had gotten their shit together enough to make it out the door and to the event. They could circle back to that later.

“He’s gonna hold this against you for forever, you know,” Britt said. “I’m going to go find Adam so good luck with Jon later. You’ll probably need it. Have fun!”

Britt shot a wink at her as they clinked their glasses together and downed their champagne. Just as she turned to set her empty glass, she could feel a presence behind her. A smile spread on her face.

“So, how pissed is Jon?”

“Truth be told his ass is a little chapped over it, doll.”

That was not Eddie Kingston’s voice. She tried to temper her face as she turned and looked up at him. Jon’s narrowed eyes greeted her.

“Hi, babe,” she said. “Are you having a good time?”

He shook his head, a smirk of disbelief on his face. He reached past her to grab a glass of champagne. He took a sip of it and scrunched his face. It wasn’t to his taste. Not like the bottle of Jack back in their room.

“Oh yeah, you’re gonna hi, babe me like you didn’t do anything wrong?” His low voice rolled through her ears. “You did me dirty, sweetheart. You and Eddie. He’s not getting out of this one and neither are you.”

She traced a finger down the line of open buttonholes at the front of his suit as she looked over him again. He insisted on wearing it unbuttoned, the sleeves pushed up. All broad and muscled, beard trimmed and that earring in. Hair a little messy like he’d just rolled out of bed or bar fight. Rugged and nothing at all like a gentleman.

“Oh, I get it,” he rumbled as he looked down at her, his dimples prominent when he began to grin at her. He made like he was going to kiss her cheek and lingered there. “Is it doing it for you, dressing me up all nice like this? I feel like it’s doing something for you.”

Her face flushed and she looked away for a beat. It was as much confirmation as anything. Jon’s tongue swept across his bottom lip and he nodded when he pulled away.

“Eddie and I thought it would be funny,” she finally said, confidently as she could. She fumbled for a glass and he did the honors of handing her one. She took a long sip of it before she spoke again. “We can go whenever if it’s really that ba--Oh we’re leaving now?”

Her words were all the incentive Jon needed to grab her hand and tug her towards the exit. She barely had time to set her glass down before they were through the double-doors. Thankfully, their room was in the same building the event was being hosted in. The time in the elevator went by quickly with Jon’s hand pulsating around hers, his barely contained energy swelling in the glass and metal box.

As soon as their door beeped them in, he was on her. He stooped down to pick her up against him and slanted his mouth over hers to claim. To bruise. Frustration spilled through and his tongue was harsh against her, his teeth sharp. She fisted his tie in her hand and tugged it hard when she pulled away from his mouth. He went to kiss her again and she pulled away.

“What, doll? What is it?”

His voice was a throaty rasp as his chest heaved. She kissed his cheek before she spoke.

“You said I did you dirty earlier, right?”

His intense eyes burned into her as he pressed her back against the wall. He nodded, then narrowed his eyes. What was she getting at? She made like she wanted to get down and he acquiesced. He grunted when she forced him back against the wall and she could see the way he strained against his suit pants, the way his thick thighs went tight. As much as dressing nice did it for her, he liked it when she got her hands on him and was anything but soft about it. Her hand loosened in his tie and she moved her hand down the front of his dress shirt, undoing the buttons as she went. She stood up on her tiptoes to kiss him and he groaned into her mouth when she popped the last one, her hand splayed across the warm skin of his stomach.

“I’ll make it up to you.”

She knelt down and kissed his stomach. His lips parted as he stared down at her, widened his stance. Her deft hands undid his belt and didn’t bother to pull it through the loops. His zipper went next and she slowly pulled his pants down over his ass, halfway down his thighs. Her fingers curled around the waistband of his boxer-briefs.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he said. His long fingers found a home in her hair. He hissed when she scratched her nails along his hip bones. His hips stuttered forward at the sensation and he tugged at her hair. “You’re gonna kill me. You are killing me.”

She smiled up at him as she palmed him through his briefs. He secured his bottom lip between his teeth once she bared him to the cold air of the hotel room. His abs contracted hard when she took the head of him into her mouth. Then the rest of him slid into the warmth of her mouth and he didn’t care about being quiet. A filthy moan thundered out of him when she took him as deep as she could and dug her nails into the muscle of his ass.

“Fuck, fuck,” he huffed out. “Do I need to wear nice shit more often, doll? Is that it? You like that? You like when I dress all nice for you?”

Her affirmative hum vibrated through him as she worked and his knees almost buckled. The hum turned into a moan and he swore. Such a large, intimidating bruiser of a man nearly brought to his knees just by her lips, her tongue? Fuck.

“Shit,” he heaved out. She felt him stiffen in her mouth and the muscles of his thighs go tight under her hands. The hand in her hair tugged hard and pressed her against him. His eyes fell shut and he leaned back into the wall to brace himself. “I’m gonna cum, baby. I’m gonna--”

Jon’s words were choked by his guttural groan as he filled the back of her throat. He hissed and his hips stuttered until the grip he had on her hair finally lessened. The back of his hand lightly smacked against the wall as he let her go. She looked up at him, completely debauched and still half-dressed in the suit she picked out for him. Her lipstick clung to his skin. His head fell back against the wall, eyes shut, and he barely startled when she kissed his neck.

He found her mouth with his and she felt his hands trace down her arms, his grip soft. Then the heat of their kiss was turned up and she moaned into his mouth as his tongue pressed against hers. The bliss of his orgasm faded, burned away by the resurgence of heat that made his hands feel warm as brands on her skin.

She moaned his name and reached for him. Except she couldn’t. She opened her eyes. His tie was gone, her hands bound behind her. Jon’s lips stalled against hers and she felt him smile. He pulled away, his breath hot on her moist lips. Hooded eyes looked down at her.

“You dared me earlier, doll,” he said as he guided her back to the bed. He slowly spun her around and pulled her back against him, his chest to her back. She arched against him when he mouthed against her neck. His hand lightly squeezed one of her breasts through her dress. “You remember that?”

She nodded. He squeezed the other and she panted.

“Do you still want me to make good on that?”

She whimpered and her head fell back against his shoulder. A low chuckle rose out of him when she whispered a yes.

“You dressing nice does it for me too,” he admitted as he guided her to bend over the edge of the bed. His hand ran down her back to play with her bound hands, squeeze her ass, then down her thighs to where the hem of the dress was. If it tore a little when he yanked it up over her hips, she didn’t care. He nudged her feet apart and she turned her head against the bed to look back at him. He leaned over her and she shuddered at his breath against her ear. “But fuck, you look damn good like this too. Real fucking good.”

He tore her panties down and the only thought that crossed her mind when he got his hands, all of him, on her, was that she would have to put Jon Moxley in suits more often. Forever, if possible.

#jon moxley imagine #jon moxley smut #jon moxley fic #jon moxley fanfiction #aew imagine #aew smut #aew fic #aew fanfiction #wrestling imagine #wrestling fic

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scuttling · 3 years

Text

In Those Jeans

Fandom: Criminal Minds Pairings: Aaron Hotchner/Female Reader Word Count: 2,599 Tags: 18+, NSFW, Blow jobs, Thigh riding, Car sex, Unprotected sex, Semi-public sex Summary: After almost two years of dating, you and Aaron still can't keep your eyes—or hands—off of each other, even at a company picnic; but who could blame you, when he looks like that? *Inspired by this gifset I think we all reblogged last night. I'm feral for Hotch in jeans. 🤤 Link to AO3 or read below! As Aaron’s girlfriend of almost two years, there have been countless times when you’ve gotten to see the rarer sides of his personality, things he doesn’t show at work, or at least not often.

You’ve seen his silly side with Jack when he builds pillow forts, plays tag in the backyard, makes messes in the kitchen. You’ve seen his sweet side when he gives you a back rub just because, makes your favorite dinner when you’ve had a stressful week, when he’s there to talk or just cuddle after appointments with your therapist, which he knows can bring your mood down a little.

You’ve seen him tender, romantic, playful, emotional, loving and caring and capable, but nothing compares to the hidden knowledge you have of one aspect of his personality: your man is horny as hell, and also kind of a freak.

At work, of course, he is the epitome of stoic, expressionless, buttoned-up suit, but a little flash of panty, or a sultry look, or even a well-timed innuendo is enough to have you knees up in the backseat of a government-owned SUV before the rest of your team even leaves the parking garage.

You silently thank god for tinted windows; you not-so-silently thank god for Aaron.

It’s amazing, because you are the same way, half turned-on at any given time of the day, catapulted to full on horny mess depending on the look on his face, the outfit he’s wearing, whether or not he calls you by your last name—before you were dating, you longed to hear him say your first name, but now it’s the impersonal bark of your surname that really gets you going.

Because you share the same predisposition for being down to fuck most of the time, all it takes is a raised eyebrow or a sway of the hips to signal you’re in the mood for something to happen, and if it’s physically feasible and won’t get you arrested, you usually follow through.

It’s how you end up getting absolutely wrecked in the back of the SUV at an FBI family picnic event—you don’t feel great about it, but it is what it is, and it all started with a pair of jeans. Aaron is hot. There’s no doubt about it, and it’s not up for debate. He doesn’t see it, but that just makes him hotter; if other people don’t see it, that just makes them stupid. You see it, though, everyday, in the smallest of ways, can’t stop seeing it. When he gets ready for the picnic, throws on a soft, worn t-shirt and a pair of jeans that fit him so well it’s almost criminal, you make a noise in the back of your throat, and Aaron grins.

“What’s happening over there?” he asks as you sit on the edge of the bed, hooking the strap of your sandal over your heel. You exhale, scowl.

“I think you know very well what’s happening.” He chooses a belt from the back of the door, slides it through the loops on the jeans, and your mouth waters. “Fuck, Aaron.”

“No time for that,” he says, looking up at you through his stupidly dark eyelashes, and he clasps the buckle, smooths his hands down his thighs. You’re going to be soaked before you even leave the house.

“I beg to differ.” You stand from the bed, twirl a little in a blue sundress you know Aaron won’t be able to resist for long. Two can play at this game: if he wants to watch you slowly lose your composure in public, you’re sure as hell not going to make it easy.

“Ugh. Love those little dresses,” he murmurs, stepping toward you, but you shake your head and wag a finger at him.

“Nope, no time for that,” you say, but you giggle when he narrows his eyes and stalks closer anyway.

He tackles you, tosses you back on the bed, kisses your mouth and neck, then whispers dirty things into your ear and rubs you through your panties until you come so loud it could wake the dead. You undo that stupid belt, tug his jeans down just enough to free his cock, toss your hair over your shoulder, and blow him like you’re being graded on it—if that were the case, you’d be getting extra credit for technique, no doubt about it.

You leave a little later than intended, and you know you just made a huge mistake, because getting him out of those jeans again is going to be all you can think about for the rest of the day; you’re not certain what’s going through his head, but you know for a fact he’s thinking pretty much the same thing.

Even though you’re both bummed that it’s Jack’s weekend with Haley and he's missing the picnic, you have to admit it’s kind of good timing, because you don’t let yourself get distracted when he is with you, but Aaron is looking so damn distracting today. You sit at a picnic table with JJ and Garcia, drinking iced tea and watching Will and Aaron play catch with Henry and a couple other kids. You’d say this is just a tactic, because seeing Aaron interact with kids always gives you baby (and babymaking) fever, but you know deep down he just loves children, and that makes your heart warm more than anything.

When he lifts the hem of his shirt to wipe the sweat off his face? Now that’s a tactic, and a damn good one. You can’t hold back your whimper, and your friends take one look at you and share an amused glance.

“It’s a family picnic,” JJ says, scolding and teasing all at once. “Keep it in your pants.”

“It’s his pants you need to be worried about,” you mutter, and you fan yourself with your hand to try to bring yourself down a notch. That, of course, does not work, so you sigh, stand from the table, pour a cup of lemonade, and give them a wink before walking over to Aaron’s side. You get his attention with an innocent look, hand over the lemonade with a sweet smile.

“You look hot. And thirsty,” you tell him, and he smiles, tips his head back, and drinks it all in one gulp. You watch him swallow, squeeze your thighs together.

“So do you,” he says with a hint of a smirk, handing back the cup, and he leans in to whisper in your ear. “Thanks for the lemonade; now let me watch you walk away.” You pull back, lick your lips slowly and turn around, throwing him a look over your shoulder as you make your way back to the picnic table. Emily and Derek are there now too, and Emily laughs when you take your seat.

“Two years in and you still look at each other like that? Please tell me your secret,” she says with a grin, taking a sip of her iced tea.

“Tons of quality orgasms,” you answer with a fond sigh, tucking your chin in the palm of your hand and watching Aaron cross the lot. There’s something so powerful about his stride that it makes you horny just to watch him walk; your downstairs brain is so stupid. “He also makes really good jalapeno mac and cheese.” The answer to your question, when am I going to get fucked by my gorgeous boyfriend?, will be answered shortly, you’re fairly certain; you have a good feeling, because you’re talking to an agent that works on the floor above yours, and the strap of your dress has fallen down your shoulder, and he keeps glancing at it. You’d fix it, but that would only draw more attention to it, and you can already feel Aaron looking at you.

He doesn’t get jealous often, but get him in the right mood and his dumb caveman instincts switch from fight or flight to fight or fuck pretty quickly; when he heads your way with swift, purposeful steps, you’re pretty sure you know which one has been activated today.

“Hey. Time to go,” he says, looking over your face; he turns to nod at the guy you’re talking to, then very slowly hooks his finger in the strap of your dress and slides it back into place, making eye contact with you while he does it. You don’t know why that makes you so goddamn hot, but your breathing picks up and you bite your lip, take his hand when he offers it.

You don’t say goodbye to anyone, just follow him quickly to the car and climb into the backseat when he opens the door. The second he closes it behind him, his mouth is on yours, and you fist your fingers in his t-shirt, hitch a leg over his hip, and pull him closer.

“I want you, I need you,” you breathe into the kiss, and he slides one hand around your back, uses the other to push up your dress and grab a palmful of your ass.

“I know, baby. God, I want you. You look fucking perfect in that dress; I want to tear it off.” It’s sort of expensive, and pretty, but fuck, you’re going to let him. He shifts so his back is against the seat, pulls you into his lap, and you moan when he presses you right on top of his cock, hard and bulging against the seam of his jeans. “Feel what you do to me, when you’re looking like a goddamn angel and other men can’t take their eyes off of you?” You tug on his hair, kiss him roughly, move your hands to his belt, but he stops you with gentle fingers. “First I want you to ride my thigh. You’ve been staring at them all day; do you want to?”

“Fuck, absolutely,” you whine, and he puts his hands on your hips, shifts you so your knees are on either side of his perfect, firm, denim clad thigh and encourages you to grind against it. You don’t need much encouragement, but he eases down one of the straps of your dress and maneuvers it so that he can bare your breast, get his lips around your nipple while you work to get yourself off. “Oh, god yeah.”

You plant your hands on his shoulders, dig your nails in through the soft fabric, and slide against him like a needy, horny teenager. You’re wet, and he’s undoubtedly going to be wet too by the time you’re done with him, leg soaked with your come—god, that’s a hot prospect. Both of you are panting, not from exertion but arousal, and you move a hand to the back of his head, grip his hair in your fingers while he sucks and softly bites your nipple. When he pulls back, his lips are wet, and you capture them in a kiss.

“Yeah, you’re doing so good, keep going. Keep humping, baby, come on me.” He gets a hand in your hair, kisses your neck, and you cling to him for dear life, broad back and shoulders beneath your hands as you work your hips desperately in pursuit of your orgasm. “So fucking perfect, come on me,” he mutters against your throat, and you hug him close, absolutely lose it as your climax makes your body tense from shoulders to toes.

You moan in his ear like an absolute slut—if you are one, he’s made you that way, so it’s only fair—and he kisses your mouth, deep, rough, wet kisses that ensure your desire does not dip in the slightest. You feel dirty and incredible, but no more relieved or satisfied than you were ten minutes ago.

A little bit of Aaron is never enough; no amount of Aaron is ever enough.

He makes sure you can hold yourself up and then takes his hands off of you, opens his belt and his pants and pushes them down his thighs far enough that you’ll be comfortable. You slide off of his leg to slip your panties off—they’re useless at this point anyway—and he gets his hands on your hips and puts you in his lap, holds you up so you can line his cock up with your entrance and let him press inside.

“Mmh, fuck, Aaron,” you gasp, and with the way he looks at you, eyes dark and serious and possessive, you know this will be quick for the both of you. You wrap one hand around his bicep, press back against his knee with the other; he slides his hands up to your waist, dragging the skirt of your dress up with him so he can watch himself disappear inside you, which is ten different kinds of sexy.

“Thinking about this all day—burying my cock inside your sweet, tight pussy, coming deep inside you. Do you like it, getting fucked here because I want you so bad I can’t stand to wait?” Even though you know you shouldn’t, you do, and you nod, moan yes when he fucks up inside you, strong thighs flexing. “Me too, love it, love you.”

“Love you,” you murmur while you bounce in his lap, eyes on his, tongue slipping over your lips while you snap your hips against his thrusts. “Gonna milk your cock, take every last drop; greedy for it.” Aaron groans, tightens his hands on your waist, and you clench around him when he comes, riding him fast and thorough; you follow quickly, leaning forward to rest your head against his shoulder while you shudder through the pleasure.

His hands are gentle after, smoothing up your back, around your neck, and he pulls you closer for a soft, sweet, passionate kiss. When it breaks, you smile against each other's lips.

“Tease,” you whisper, smoothing your hands over his throat, his jaw. “New unwritten rule: if you wear those jeans in public, I get as much sex as I want for the rest of the night.” He chuckles, but ultimately nods.

“Deal. New unwritten rule: when we’re out in public and someone is looking at you like that guy was looking at you, I have permission to throw you over my shoulder and take you home and remind you why it is that you belong with me.” You pull him close for a hard kiss and grin.

“Deal, caveman. So what do you want to do now?” He wrinkles his nose in contemplation, straightens up the top half of your dress.

“I think I want to go home and tear this off of you as previously mentioned,” he says; you bite your lip and nod. “What do you want to do?”

That’s a loaded question, but at the moment, only one thing really comes to mind.

“Fuck me wearing these clothes again; I don’t care where or how, you can surprise me.”

Aaron is, unsurprisingly, on board with that plan; you slip off of him, smooth out your dress, and he pulls his pants up—they are still very wet from your first orgasm, and you rub the spot with the edge of your dress to no avail.

“Don’t get pulled over, Agent,” you joke, because that would be both very hard and very easy to explain, and he groans like you’ve just done something very sexy.

“Love it when you call me Agent,” he says, pulling you in for a kiss, and you plan some super hot roleplay for later and hop out of the car so you can climb into the front seat like the fully-functioning, non-horny adult that you are.

Taglist ❤️: @thaddeusly @arsonhotchner @mrsh0tchner @ssahotchie @sleepyreaderreads @mintphoenix @meghannnnnn @disgruntledchowchow @azenpal @g-l-pierce @my-rosegold-soul @ssamorganhotchner @heliotropehotch @angelhotchner @qtip-blog @gspenc @wishuhadstayed @averyhotchner

#aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fanfic #criminal minds #criminal minds fanfic #aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x female reader #hotch x female reader #hotch x reader

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elysianslove · 4 years

Text

strip studying; itadori yuuji

requested by anon; in an attempt to help you study faster, yuuji comes up with a game, a game he’s sure will be as motivating as can be

pairings; itadori yuuji x reader

genre; fluff, humor

warnings; suggestive themes, mention of sex

━━ “i really can’t do this.”

at the sight of you before him, yuuji lets out a small laugh. he rolls onto his side, lifting himself up on his elbow, cheek resting against his palm as he surveys you. on your desk are a multitude of disarrayed papers and your open laptop, and you, slumped back on your chair, head thrown back in frustration.

originally, yuuji had come over with the intention of spending the day with you, a casual date planned last minute, probably watch a movie or two, get some take out. upon his arrival, though, he had been greeted with a nervous, jittery, frenzy you, managing to tell him in a rushed tone how your professor emailed you a notification of a quiz for the next day, how you had such little time and so much to do. you’d apologized, over and over, until he’d shut you up with a kiss, promising you it was more than alright.

he’d stayed however. maybe there was some sort of joy brought to him as he watched you suffer, or maybe he’s here for moral support. a little bit of both, if anything.

“sure you can,” he dismisses, shrugging slightly. he watches as you spin in your chair, tucking up your knees to your chest and pouting slightly.

“i really can’t though,” you repeat. “i don’t know how i’m supposed to remember all this by tomorrow.”

he huffs out another laugh, pushing himself up to a seated position. when he’s up, he reaches out for you, leaning forward to grab at the sides of your chair, and pulling you towards him easily. “well i might have an idea,” he starts.

at that, you perk up. “oh please, do tell,” you encourage.

“let me test you, and,” he proposes, sighing carefully, “for everything you get right, i’ll take a piece of clothing off.”

you raise a brow at him, curiously, but a cheeky smile twists on your lips as you survey him. he’s serious, you realize after observing him carefully. so you push your chair back with one leg dropped to the ground, and grab at your notes, spinning back around and dropping the pile of papers in his awaiting hands.

“alright, do your worst.”

as he begins, you try to recognize a pattern in the way he asks his questions, in the type of question, the length, the difficulty level, the paper he picks up. seven questions in, and only two of his socks off, you begin to realize there is no pattern. he’s completely randomizing it, and it’s not as if his feet are of any motivation either. he wiggles his toes in your face when you get another question wrong, and you push it away angrily, huffing lowly.

“you did say do your worst,” he reasons, flipping through the pages and eyeing them to choose his next question.

“yu, please, i’m going to fail at this rate.”

he laughs, letting out a small aha! of victory when he picks a question. “you’re not going to fail, baby,” he promises. leaning closer, he tucks your chin in his hands. “just use that big brain of yours.”

you roll your eyes at him, but he’s already moved on, beginning to ask yet another question. luckily, the answer to that one comes quick to you, and you say it loudly, an adrenaline rush overtaking at the feel of finally knowing something. in response, yuuji gives you a proud, surprised grin as he sets the paper aside, followed by a thumbs up, before he reaches for the hem of the hoodie he wears, pulling it off of himself, and putting it aside.

as he does so, the shirt he wears rides up, and you’re graced momentarily with the slightest bit of skin by his belly button, commenting, “now we’re getting somewhere.”

he tuts, noticing your lustful gaze at him, shaking his head jokingly. “stop being horny and start being smart,” he teases, and this time, you really do laugh.

encouraged by the tension he’s since built upon shrugging off his hoodie, you answer the next two questions correctly, watching with excited eyes as he unbuckles his belt, pulling it from the loops of his jeans, and as his hands reach from the collar of his shirt, lifting it up from by the nape of his neck. his arms bulge as he pulls it through the holes, fisting it before tossing it onto the bed.

“yu,” you tell him, “you really should’ve started with this.”

his tone is teasing once more when he speaks as he shuffles through the papers, his muscles straining and flexing with every move. you don’t shy away your gaze from his biceps, his chest, his abs, mesmerized by just how toned and well defined his body is. “glad to know you only want me for my body,” he jokes.

sinking more and more into a lustful abyss, you slide off your chair, quickly climbing onto yuuji’s lap. he lets out a startled noise, but it dims and dissolves into a sigh as your nails graze his stomach, trailing and ghosting upwards, towards his chest, around his pecks, up to his collarbones, his shoulders, down around his biceps and triceps and forearms. “you know,” you say, shuffling and shifting more onto his lap, making yourself comfortable, hands massaging his arms, leading up to his neck. “i’m alright with failing now.” you scratch at the nape of his neck, trailing up his undercut, where his hair starts, your lips leaning closer to his, lingering an inch away.

he indulges you, leaning up, barely brushing his lips against yours, before his hands find your waist, and he grips it tightly, lifting you up off his lap with ease and placing you back on your chair. “well i’m not,” he retorts. “i’ve still got two pieces of clothing left.”

“but yu,” you pout at him. “you’re— you’re so hot. s’not fair.”

leaning towards you, he grabs your chin again, and promises, “i’ll give you all you need once we’re done, okay?” before pressing a gentle, quick kiss on your lips, and leaning back once more. he’s way too into this— so into it that maybe you’ll have him roleplay as a professor during sex tomorrow. at least then you’ll have a solid chance of passing.

#jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen imagine #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujutsu kaisen fluff #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #yuji itadori x reader #yuuji x reader #itadori fluff

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drabbles-mc · 4 years

Text

Pick Up The Pieces

Opie Wintson x F!Reader

Request by Anon: Opie being gutted when he finds out Lyla doesn't want more kids, cheats on her with his best friend who actually turns up preggo. I feel like it could be a angst, smut, fluff combo. Idk thank you!

Warnings: language, angst, cheating, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, pregnancy, (this really really has it all my friends)

Word Count: 3.8k

A/N: While it is usually against my moral code to inflict pain on my lumberjack husband, I got pretty into this. I hope this is what you had in mind! xo

Join my group-chat here: (X)

SOA Taglist: @garbinge @chibsytelford @mayans-sauce @adela-topaz-caelon @masterlistforimagines @mijop @xladymacbethx @i-just-read-stuff @kkim120 @multiyfandomgirl40 @everyhowlmarksthedead @toni9 @unicornucopia-fuckers @shadow-of-wonder (If you want to be tagged just let me know! xo)

You heard the knock at the door and you instantly became confused. It was late on a Friday night and your place wasn’t exactly known for being a party spot. Case in point, you were bundled up in a fluffy bathrobe with a bowl of popcorn and a bottle of wine while watching He’s Just Not That Into You for the millionth time. You tightened the belt of your robe as you stood up and made your way to the door.

Looking through the peephole, you see Opie standing on the other side of your door. It was too dark to get a good look at his expression, but if he was showing up by himself on a Friday night you had to assume that he wasn’t in the best of shape.

Unlocking the door, you opened it and greeted him with a soft smile, “Hey, Ope.”

He didn’t even have it in him to muster a smile, “Hey. Sorry to just show up like this.”

You shook your head as you gestured for him to come inside, “No need to apologize. My door is always open for you,” you shut and locked it once he came inside, “What’s going on?”

Opie towered over everyone, yourself included, but he looked so small as he stood in the middle of your living room. His head hung low, his shoulders slumped, and you could see the defeated look on his face. You stepped in and hugged him, pressing yourself tight against his chest. His arms looped tight around you and rested the side of his head against yours. You felt his chest rise and fall slowly as he took one deep breath after another, trying to keep it together.

“You can talk to me, you know,” you stayed leaning against him, “Did something happen?”

There were a million different things that it could be. The club had been a mess lately, you knew that things with him and Lyla had been rocky, and then there was the hot mess express that was his family. There were a lot of different things to choose from, you just wondered what had him in such a hurt place.

“Shit with Lyla,” he mumbled against your hair.

You sighed quietly, disappointed but not surprised. You had no problem with Lyla—she seemed like a sweet woman. She was a good friend to the club and she was good with her kid and Opie’s. But you always had the feeling that Opie was trying to fit a square peg into a round hole with her. He wanted things to work but he also wanted her to change, which wasn’t fair to either of them.

“What happened?”

“She doesn’t want kids. Never bothered to fuckin’ mention it,” he shook his head, “Lied about being on birth control.”

You couldn’t hide your surprise. Usually, women who hooked up with the guys lied about being on birth control meaning they said they were on it when they weren’t, not the other way around. But it really shouldn’t have surprised Opie, especially given Lyla’s line of work.

“I’m sorry,” you told him.

He shook his head, “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. You told me from the jump that it wasn’t going to work.”

You pulled back from him, “That’s not what I said. I said it was going to take some work.”

His laugh was hollow, “Right.”

You let your arms drop back to your sides, “Take your boots off, stay awhile. I’m only like twenty minutes into my movie if you wanna join me.”

He looked at the screen and instantly knew what you were watching, which he hated admitting, “You never get tired of this one, huh?”

You shook your head, “Nope,” you walked to the kitchen and grabbed a second wine glass, “I don’t have any beer. Wine alright?”

He chuckled and nodded, “I’ll take whatever you got.”

You walked back over to the couch and sat down next to him, handing over the glass as you did. He picked the bottle up off the coffee table and poured himself a generous glass, immediately taking a long drink out of it. You were so used to seeing Opie with either a beer bottle or a shot glass in his hand that it was a bit of an amusing switch-up to see him sipping on Moscato.

“You wanna talk about it?” you’d been friends with Opie long enough to know that sometimes he just needed to brood about things for a bit before having a discussion about them. You still always offered the option, though.

He shook his head, “No.”

“Wanna watch Justin Long get his world turned upside down with me?”

He chuckled, nodding, “Sure.”

You leaned onto his side as you pulled your feet up underneath you. It had been a while since the two of you had gotten to spend some quality one-on-one time with each other. You wished that it hadn’t been brought on by him being so upset, but nonetheless you were glad that he still considered you someone that he could lean on.

“Thank you,” he said after a few minutes of silence, draping his arm around your shoulders.

You nodded, “Of course. Listen, I have movie night here with myself every Friday night. You’re always invited.”

He chuckled, “I’ll keep that in mind.”

You felt him press you tighter against his side, “I really am sorry, Opie.”

He sighed, “It is what it is. Just gotta…pick up the pieces I guess.”

You turned and looked up at him, and despite the fact that he sounded calm and collected, you could see it in his eyes how hurt he was. He’d always been a family man. In your eyes, he was a family man who got put in the wrong life, but there was nothing to do about that now. He was being forced to juggle it and figure it all out. Learning was tough.

“You’ll figure it out,” you nodded as you reassuringly rested your hand on his chest, “You always do.”

Behind the tears and underneath the sadness, you could see something else in his eyes. You ignored it, not wanting to make a bad situation worse. You pulled away, clearing your throat as you poured yourself another glass of wine. You offered the bottle to him, and he gladly accepted it and refilled his glass.

You found yourself curled comfortably against his side again, pretending not to notice that his hand had slid down to rest dangerously low on your hip. You could feel the slight pressure of his fingertips through the fluff of your robe. You fought to stay focused on the movie but it was difficult when you could feel him staring down at you.

“Something you wanna talk about?” you finally asked.

Despite the look in his eyes, he shook his head, “No.”

“You sure?”

You saw his eyes dart down and look at your lips, and instantly the heat began to rise in your face. You knew that he was just lost and hurting, and that you were just full of liquid confidence, but part of you was telling you that it wouldn’t be the end of the world. If there was anyone you could maintain a friendship with after a hookup, it was Opie, right?

“You’re beautiful.”

You chuckled, trying to pretend that you were less flustered than you really were, “And you’re full of wine.”

He reached out and cupped your chin when you went to turn away, forcing you to look at him, “I mean it,” his hand slid up so that it was resting on your cheek.

You placed your hand over his, “This isn’t what you need right now, Ope,” it killed you to say it but you knew that it was true.

“Please,” it was the most broken you’d heard his voice sound in a while.

That, and the look in his eyes, wiped away what little self-control you had left. You gave him a slight nod and he instantly leaned in, pressing his lips to yours. You’d imagined kissing Opie a thousand times, even if you didn’t want to admit it, but it never went quite like this. It was desperate, like he was trying to fill a void, and you let him try. His hands cupped either side of your face and you reveled in the feeling of the roughness of his hands against the soft skin of your cheeks.

His hands dropped, gripping onto your hips and maneuvering you so that you were straddling his lap. You kept your lips pressed to his as you tore the beanie off his head, letting his hair fall down to his shoulders. You raked your fingers through it as you bit down lightly on his bottom lip, causing him to wrap his arms tighter around you.

He pulled his lips off of yours, letting them slide down to your neck. You tilted your head back to give him better access, a soft moan escaping your lips as he began to untie the belt of your robe. He pushed it down off your shoulders and let it drop to the floor. He drank in the sight of you in nothing but your bra and underwear, hands exploring all of the newly exposed skin that he had access to.

You lifted the bottom hem of his shirt, tossing it off to the side. You gawked at his tattoos, the muscles that flexed throughout his chest and shoulders. You’d seen him without a shirt on countless times, but being able to look and being able to touch were two completely different things. You lightly traced your fingers along the tattoos that covered his skin, but your admiration time was cut short as he pulled you into another needy kiss, reminding you what this was all really about.

His tongue ran along your bottom lip as he pulled your panties to the side, tracing one finger along your folds. You shuddered and moaned into his mouth at the contact, wordlessly begging him for more contact. Your nails dug into his shoulders as he slid his finger into you, moaning at how wet you already were.

You bit down hard on his bottom lip as he slid another finger in to join the first. You hungrily moved against his hand, desperate for any and all contact. His other hand rested on the back of your neck, making sure that your lips stayed attached to his. You could feel the heat radiating off of his body as his grip on you tightened slightly.

You pulled away, hands instantly going to the buckle of his belt. As soon as it was undone Opie lifted his hips off the couch just enough to push his jeans and boxers down below his knees, letting them pool by his ankles on the floor. He gripped back onto your hips and pulled you closer, situating you so that you were right over him. You leaned in and pressed your lips to his as he pushed himself inside you, both of you moaning at the sensation.

Not wasting any time, you began to move your body against his. It was messy, desperate, but the two of you didn’t need anything more than that. His nails dug into your back as you mindlessly tugged at his hair. He swallowed your moans as his nails raked down your back, your hands roughly cupping his face as he did.

How years had gone by without you two ending up in this position until now was beyond you. But as your hips moved against his you knew that you’d dug yourself into a very deep hole that you didn’t know if you would be able to get yourself out of. You didn’t want to go back to how things were before this, regardless of how you ended up getting here in the first place.

Your anxieties were drowned out by the sound of Opie moaning your name, fingertips digging hard into your hips. You cursed under your breath as he bit down on your neck, sucking a dark mark into the skin there.

“Fuck, Opie,” you gasped, “I’m gonna cum.”

He let out a low growl as he gripped harder onto you, hands sliding down do your ass and speeding up your movements. You buried your face into the crook of his neck, the sound of his name filling the house as he fucked you through your orgasm. Your legs trembled beneath you as you blindly grabbed onto his shoulders to support you.

His voice was raspy as he tried and failed to get out at least one coherent sentence, “Fuck, I’m gonna, where…”

“Fuck it,” you pressed your lips hard against his for a moment, “I’m on the pill. Doesn’t matter.”

Moments later you felt him pull you as close as possible as he finished inside you, moaning and biting down hard on your shoulder as he did. He rested his forehead against your shoulder, fighting to catch his breath as he wrapped his arms tight around your middle. You leaned your head against his and lightly carded your fingers through his hair. His chest rose and fell against yours and you soaked up the contact, knowing in the back of your mind that you weren’t going to have it for long.

He stayed the night with you, and it was more of the same. You knew he was just trying not to think about the heartbreak, and you were in no position to turn him away. It was going to make it worse in the morning, but you didn’t care. He wrapped you up and held you against his chest, breathing heavy as he tangled his legs up with yours and slowly started drifting off to sleep.

You woke up the next morning to an empty bed, which shouldn’t have been as surprising or as hurtful as it was. With a heavy sigh you pulled on an old t-shirt and made your way out to the kitchen. You saw a note on the counter next to an already-made pot of coffee. You would be able to recognize Opie’s scratchy handwriting from a mile away.

“Sorry for crashing in and leaving. Thank you for everything. Love you. -Opie”

With a sigh you tacked the note up on the fridge. You knew you should’ve just crumpled it and thrown it out, but you couldn’t. Not yet. With a heavy sigh you went to shower off the events of the previous night in an attempt to get your mind right.

You walked into the clubhouse that night, and the weekly party was already well underway. Everyone was drinking and laughing, and it was a welcome distraction. You couldn’t pretend, though, that you weren’t constantly looking for Opie.

“What brings you here, darlin’?” Jax asked with a smile as he found a spot next to you at the bar.

You leaned into his hug with a smile, “I heard parties can be a good distraction.”

He nodded, smirking when he spotted the dark marks on your neck. He tapped them with the tip of his finger, “Looks like you’ve got a handle on that just fine.”

You laughed, face instantly getting hot, “Something like that.”

“That what you need a distraction from?”

You nodded, not caring to elaborate further, “Opie here tonight?”

Jax looked around the clubhouse as he nodded, “Yea. Got here with Lyla a few minutes ago.”

“What?”

Jax returned his gaze to you, not used to hearing such a bite to your tone, “Um. Yea. You alright?”

You nodded despite the fact that you weren’t anywhere near alright. Your heart felt like it had dropped into your stomach, “I’m fine. I just, I need to step out for some air. You see Opie tell him to come find me?”

Jax nodded but didn’t say anything else as you got off your stool and all but ran for the door. You sat down at the picnic table, running your hands down your face as you fought back the tears. You had assumed that he had ended things with Lyla and that’s how he ended up at your place, but of course not. He was never good at being alone, he wouldn’t put himself in that position if he could help it.

A few minutes later you saw someone take a seat next to you out of the corner of your eye. You didn’t need to look in order to know who it was.

“You didn’t fucking break up with her?” you weren’t expecting to sound so choked up.

“Y/N, I just—”

“Just cheated on your girlfriend with me? And didn’t bother to mention that to me?” you shook your head, “And then I fucking showed up here tonight and…” your bottom lip quivered, “Fuck, Opie.”

“I know.”

“Do you?!” you snapped, “Lyla didn’t deserve that! And I sure as hell didn’t either,” you stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the table, “Y’know what, fuck this. I, I can’t be here.”

He stood up to walk after you, “Y/N, don’t. Come on.”

You were already digging your keys out of your purse, “Don’t give me that. I can’t…I can’t look at you or be around you right now. Figure your shit out, Opie.”

That was the last thing you said to him. It’d been a little over a month since then, and you hadn’t spoken to him or been back to the clubhouse since. You were currently hugging the toilet bowl as you threw up what little was left in your stomach from dinner the night before. On top of the actual nausea, you had an uneasy feeling that you knew exactly what was causing it.

Once you rinsed out your mouth and brushed your teeth, you grabbed the pregnancy tests out of the bag from the pharmacy. It was a long shot but they did always say that even the pill wasn’t 100% effective. Just your luck, you would be in the 1% that could still get pregnant on the pill.

You set the test on the sink counter and set the timer on your phone, your entire body shaking in anticipation as you waited. You didn’t know what you wanted the result to be, really. You’d always wanted kids at some point down the road, with the right person. This just felt so sudden, with so many blank spaces.

The timer went off and with a deep breath, you looked at the test. Clear as day, the little screen said pregnant. For a moment you felt like you were going to throw up all over again. But you managed to keep your composure and take another test just to be sure, and you were rewarded with the same answer. You sighed, running your hands over your face as you tried to figure out what you were going to do.

You took out your phone and texted Opie, “Come over ASAP. We gotta talk”

After a month and a half of not speaking, that was probably an alarming text for him to get. It was effective, though, because within the hour you heard the sound of his motorcycle outside. He let himself in, finding you sitting at the kitchen counter with your head in your hands.

“Got your text. What’s going on?”

Before you got into it, you wanted some answers on a few things first, “How’s Lyla?”

He sighed, thinking that you had called him over just to continue berating him, “Wouldn’t know. Haven’t talked to her in weeks,” he paused, “Broke it off the week after that party.”

You nodded, “Right. Good. You tell her what happened with us?”

He shook his head, “No point. Didn’t want to drag you into all that shit if you weren’t even coming around anymore,” he waited for you to meet his eyes, “What’s this about?”

You sighed, waving for him to come closer. He walked into your kitchen, leaning on the opposite side of the counter from you. Your leg bounced nervously as you tried to put the words together, “I, um, fuck,” you took a deep breath and forced yourself to make eye contact with him, “I’m pregnant.”

His eyes went wide, “What?”

You nodded, “I’m pregnant. Missed my period a couple weeks ago. Took two tests today to be sure.”

“Is it…” he didn’t have to finish the sentence for you to know what he was asking.

You nodded, “Yea. Yours.”

“But I thought you were on the pill?”

Your laugh was hollow as tears appeared in your eyes, “I was. Called my doctor about it and everything. It happens. Not common but it happens,” you shook your head, “I’m not saying you need to be involved or that we need to be together or whatever. I just, I couldn’t not tell you.”

There was a long stretch of silence as he processed what you had just told him. He drummed his fingers on the countertop, “Do you want me to be involved? You want,” he gestured back and forth between the two of you, “this? Us?”

“I’ve been in love with you for years, Ope. I never said anything because you’ve always been in love with someone else. Which was, fine. It was what it was. But when you came over here that night? I almost had a fucking heart attack. And then when I found out that you hadn’t even left Lyla I was fucking…gutted. I felt so dirty and…and used.”

“Y/N, it wasn’t—”

You held your hand up to stop him, “Don’t lie. Not to me, alright? You were a mess and I shouldn’t have let it happen. But I did. That was just as much on me as it was on you. I just never thought that you would do that to Lyla. Or to me.”

“I came here that night because I trust you, because I love you,” he said, his eyes glued to the counter, “You’ve always been…safe. And I shouldn’t…I shouldn’t have used you for that. That was fucked up. And I’m sorry. But,” he walked around to the other side of the counter, “if you want to do this, I’m here. For you, for the baby. I’m here.”

“I can’t just pretend…”

He nodded, “I know. And I don’t want you to. I know that I’ve got work to do,” he reached and thumbed the tears off your cheeks, “But that’s work I’m more than willing to do if you’ll let me. I love you.”

You let the words sink in for a moment as you shut your eyes and rested your hand on top of his, “I love you too.”

“And I’m sorry.”

You nodded, opening your eyes to look at him, “I know.”

“But I think we could do this. I really do. If that’s what you want.”

You paused, finally giving a slow nod, “I do. But I just…I need some time to get right with all this.”

He pulled you against his chest, pressing a kiss against the top of your head, “I got all the time in the world for you two.”

#soa #sons of anarchy #sons of anarchy imagine #soa imagine #opie winston #opie winston x reader #opie winston x you #opie winston angst #opie winston smut #sons of anarchy fanfiction #my writing #fanfiction #drabblesmc

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iwaslut · 3 years

Text

— best friends

note: inspired by the line “she my best friend, yeah we not a couple,” from playboi carti’s song “sky.”

ft. connie springer and jean kirstein.

warning: afab!reader, suggestive content, college!au, alcohol mention/light intoxication, mxm, not proofread

⤷ main page

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT ♡ 18+ CONTENT

you’re not dating connie springer or jean kirstein despite what your friends may believe. though you insist that you’re not dating either of them, sasha’s completely convinced that you have a thing for one of them at least, or maybe both of them, she teases, and the thing is, she’s not necessarily wrong.

you’ve hooked up with both of them on multiple occasions, separately and together, but nothing more than that. connie and jean are your best friends, who you just so happen to fuck sometimes. the line between friends and more is blurry among you three, but you’re all content for the time being. as long as you have your best friends by your side, you’re happy.

you’re not dating, which is why you have no right to feel jealous that some random girl is all over jean and blatantly flirting with him. she’s basically draping herself onto him and the worst part is that jean seems to be enjoying it.

“i feel like i need to wash my eyes out with bleach.” connie plops down onto the leather sofa beside you, eyes trained on the duo who’s across the room from you two. you’re quick to take a swig of the drink he offers you, grimacing at the burn of cheap alcohol as it runs down your throat.

“same.” though there are plenty of other people in the crowded room, milling about, your eyes stay on jean and the girl who looks like she’s seconds away from attempting to fuck him right then and there. how shameless of her.

“how about we put on a show for him?” you look up at connie, who’s now standing with his hand out for you to take. you recognize the familiar gleam of mischief in his eyes. the corner of your lips turns up into an excited grin, and you slip your hand into connie’s.

“lead the way, my good sir.” laughter tears its way out of your chest when connie pulls you up off the couch, causing you to stumble into his chest. your hands stay clasped together as connie navigates you through the crowd of sweaty bodies. once you reach an area that’s not quite as cramped and where jean has a clear view of the two of you, connie stops, turning around and easily pulling you until your chests are pressed to one another.

you wrap your arms around connie’s neck as his hands find their place on your ass as the two of you begin to sway to the beat of the song blaring throughout the house party. you giggle when connie leans in, warm breath ghosting across your skin.

“you look so fucking hot tonight.” a startled yelp escapes past your lips when connie’s hands suddenly squeeze your ass, prompting you to jolt and press yourself further against connie’s body.

“you don’t look so bad yourself,” you tease, running a finger over his chest. you laugh when he flexes his pecs underneath your touch. “very nice, connie.”

“i know,” he playfully brags. you don’t know if it’s the alcohol you’ve drunk or it’s connie playing around, but warmth floods your chest. you’re not drunk, maybe a little tipsy, which has you feeling all loose and warm. your breath hitches when connie’s grip on your ass becomes more firm as he presses his front against yours. you rake your nails through his shortened strands when he angles his head and starts littering kisses along the column of your neck.

“connie,” you whine, all high and out of breath, when he nips at your sensitive spot and presses his hips more insistently against yours. the way his clothed erection rubs against your aching core has you wanting more. you dig the blunt edges of your nails into connie’s shoulders as his playful nips morph into sucking marks into your neck.

you freeze when you feel another body come up behind you, but relax when the familiar scent of sandalwood floods your senses.

“hey, jean boy! what brings you here?” you lean back against jean’s chest as connie greets the taller man. goose bumps erupt across your skin when jean slips his calloused hands underneath the hem of your shirt.

“nothing much, was just wondering if you had room for one more.” jean grins at connie before pressing a quick kiss to the crown of your head.

“i guess we could manage one more,” you tease, craning your head back to look at jean. he pretends to look offended for a moment before he leans down to slant his lips over yours. you moan against his lips when he slips his tongue inside your mouth while he grinds his hips against your ass. meanwhile, connie’s busying himself once more with covering the entirety of your neck with love bites.

when you two separate from one another, you lean your head back against jean’s chest and watch as jean leans forward to kiss connie. it’s dizzying to watch them, they’re so messy when kissing each other. when they pull away from each other, a thin line of saliva connects them before they both wipe it off.

you give them a lazy grin when they turn their attention back to you.

“how about we get out of here, angel?” jean coos into the shell of your ear, toying with the bottom hem of your shirt as connie tugs you forward by your belt loops.

your eyes sparkle as you bat your eyelashes up at them.

“my place or yours?”

#attack on titan x reader #aot x reader #attack on titan smut #aot smut #aot thirsts #attack on titan thirsts #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #connie springer x reader #conny springer x reader #connie springer smut #conny springer smut #celeste.scribs #drip #drip.aot

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stargazingthenightaway · 3 years

Text

See Something You Like? Part 4

Pairing: Rebels Rex x Reader

Word Count: 6.1K

Warning: NSFW 18+ Sexual tension, yearning, dirty thoughts, praise kink, size kink, fingering, oral (female receiving) Dom!Rex, slight predator/prey vibes

A/N: What do you do when you’re in the middle of a heat wave and don’t want to go outside? Write smut! Turing up the heat dial. Let me know if you would like to be added to the tag list.

The sound of his footsteps fade away down the hall, his steady gait giving no indication that he’d left you a wound-up mess in the practice booth. If anything, that was the walk of a man who had every assurance he could wring out every moan, whimper and scream out of you, all with just a touch of his hand. The certainty that he’d be knuckle deep inside you again after finding you waiting for him back in your quarters, and you’d be waiting because you’re his good girl.

You listen until you hear the faint hiss of the entryway open and close before you slide down to the floor, legs finally giving out. You sit unceremoniously on the ground, legs spread to the sides and struggling to calm your breathing. Your heart could jumpstart an X-wing it was beating so fast.

Did that really happen? You think to yourself. Did Rex really just do that?

The ache in your folds tell you it very much did. Thinking about his thick fingers sends a pulse in your core, reminding you how empty you feel, and how much better it was when Rex was filling you up. Your thighs clench together to ease the sensation, wanting to get to the safety of your quarters before someone else finds you in this compromising position. Imagine explaining that to the higher ups. The stern face of General Draven is enough to put your arousal on the back burner, for now.

When your breath is steady enough you stand up and while you very much enjoyed how skillful Rex was, walking around in damp panties was very much not something you want to do for the rest of the day.

Reaching over, you shut off the simulation, targets moving back to their spots by the wall, and make your over to get your blaster, placing it in your holster before leaving, legs slightly wobbling the short distance. They get better as you walk down the main hallway to the entryway, but every so often there is a tremor that causes your steps to falter.

There is no way that you are in any state to finish your reports, not that you’d want to right now, so you head back to your quarters. It was maddening how easily Rex could walk away when you knew you’d struggle just to walk out of the practice booth, never mind the winding hallways that you had to navigate to get to your quarters. Each time your panties rub against your folds keeps you hovering between anticipation and frustration, and you want to scream. Anticipation because you know Rex will come back and make sure you’re satisfied, frustration because you have to wait. The force must have been on your side for once since you don’t meet anyone on your slow walk back to your room.

When you open the door you look at your quarters and wince just a little bit. While you could confidently say you were not the messiest person on base, you wouldn’t call yourself the neatest either. You’d like to say your room looked lived in. Yesterday’s uniform was hanging on the back of your desk chair, boots kicked haphazardly by the entrance, reports stacked on any available surface and various knick-knacks clustered on shelves, tokens from missions or gifts from friends. While it certainly made the room homey, it’s not the setting you’d like for a sexscapade with a certain rebel captain.

You busy yourself around the room, filing reports away or neatening up the stacks on your desk, putting your boots on the shoe shelf by the door and tossing your dirty uniform in the laundry hamper. Once that’s done you give everything a quick once-over with an old shirt. All in all, clean up is over faster than you’d thought it be, but then again, your quarters aren’t that big to begin with.

Now that you’re done, you’re not quite sure what to do with yourself. What’s the standard procedure for waiting to get dicked down by the one you’ve been fantasizing about. It wasn’t like a manual came with your rebel registration packet. You sit down on the bed only to stand right back up. Right, your panties.

Peeling off your rumpled clothes, you toss those into the hamper before getting a clean pair of underwear, tossing a loose shirt on over top your bra. You don’t bother with a new set of pants, the shirt being long enough to give you some modesty if someone came by.

Well, that took all of thirty seconds you think sourly.

Flopping back on the bed, you stare at the ceiling. Twiddling your thumbs doesn’t seem very productive, but your mind is too buzzy to focus on reports. You wiggle up your bed so that your head on resting on your pillow. You wonder how long Rex’s meeting is going to take, if he’s feeling as antsy as you. Is he thinking about how you sounded underneath him, how easily his fingers slipped inside you? Or is he wondering how he’d take you when he gets back, if he’ll bend you over the desk, or have you suck his cock before getting you on all fours, mounting you from behind? Would he call you his good girl after filling you up with his cum?

You squirm and rub your legs together, feeling the heat start to build back up, getting you all tingly and eager for his touch. Your hand sneaks down your front, picturing Rex’s hand in your mind, how it felt, how warm it was. Just as you reach the band of your panties you hesitate. This wouldn’t be disobeying him you think to yourself. He didn't say anything about fantasizing, only that you weren’t allowed to touch to get yourself off. Deciding a little touch would’t hurt, your hand dips down beneath your panties, tracing your slit over the thin fabric. You close your eyes and picture Rex sliding between your legs, you spread them a little wider, imagining he’s there with you. Back n’ forth, you finger follows the same path, changing up the pressure every so often.

“Look at you mesh’la” Rex coos, “So eager for me you can’t help but touch yourself.

Moving your panties to the side you move two fingers along your folds, feeling the slick that has started to collect at your opening. You gather some and bring it up to your clit, rubbing gentle circles over it.

“That’s it, nice and slow. No need to rush” he says, sitting back to watch, hand stroking his length. “Show me what you want.”

“I want you” You moan as you start to rub faster, your other hand playing with your nipple through your shirt “I want you so bad.”

Rex spreads your legs wider, putting you fully on display “Show me where you want me” he commands.

Your fingers leave your clit and dip into your opening once “I want you here,” you turn pleading eyes up to him, “please, help me. Need your touch.”

He smirks “Well then, convince me to help.”

“Reeeex” you whine, speeding up your thrusts, fingers plunging into your heat. The coil of pleasure builds, you’re so close -

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

You rip you hand from between your legs and roll to the side, squeezing your legs together. That was more than just touching! You whimper, your pussy flutters around nothing, denied cumming yet again. You’re lucky your comm went off when it did, or else you would not have obeyed Rex’s order. Pulling it over, you find that it’s silent, no blinking light indicating a call. Then what-

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK

Chest heaving you sit up, realizing the sound is coming from outside your door. Scrambling up, you nearly trip in your haste to open the door, momentarily forgetting about your flushed state. You hand slaps down on the entryway button and there he is.

“Rex!” You exclaim, face breaking out into a smile “What kept you?”

Rex stands with his fist poised to knock again before he moves it back to his side, taking you in. Hair mussed, chest straining against your shirt, face flushed and the most beautiful smile on your face. All for him. He knows he wasn’t gone that long to warrant such a welcome, but he wasn’t going to complain. With any luck, seeing you like this would become a permanent fixture of his day.

He wants to see you sleepy eyed in the morning, snuggled close before work calls you both away, watch you blaze with determination as you outline decrypted enemy intel, share secret touches that are just for him alone. But most of all, that you keep this smile just for him, when he comes back to you. It lights up some forgotten part of him that says you’re home.

Rex is stunned for a moment, by the power that is you, before coming back to the present. “It almost sounds like you missed me, mesh’la” he says with a grin before leaning into your space “and you got all dressed up.” He rubs the hem of your shirt between his fingers. “Answering the door like this could give a man ideas.”

“Naughty ones I hope,” you say as you loop your fingers through Rex’s belt, tugging him inside your room, “someone did promise to take care of me when he was finished his meeting.” You smile coyly up at him, “Sound familiar?”

“Maybe” he says, punching the lock once the door has shut behind him. Don’t need any interruptions he thinks. “I might need a reminder though.”

“I think that can be arranged, Sir” you say before you’re tug him flush against you, his hands settling on your hips. Rising on your tiptoes, you slot your mouth over his, linking your hands behind his neck, pulling him closer. There’s no rush for fear of being discovered, so you take your time, savouring the feeling of your lips moving against his, slow and languid, reacquainting themselves after being apart.

Rex groans low in his throat, hands kneading your sides, letting you take the lead for this kiss. As you press yourself even closer, he feels your fingers brush against the side of his beard, cradling his face between your palms, when he feels something confusing.

He pulls away slightly, ignoring your little mewl “Cyar’ika, why is your hand wet?”

You look at him in confusion “Wet, what do you mean w-” You freeze up as your fantasy barrels to the front of your mind, your very hands on fantasy. In your haste to get to the door you had forgotten to wipe off the evidence of your arousal. Taking a breath, you relax your body. You got this.

“I was washing my hands before you arrived and was drying them when you knocked on the door.”

Rex raises an eyebrow before slowing pulling your hand away from his neck and bringing it in-between the two of you. He looks at it for a moment before commenting. “Drying?” He sounds skeptical “and only two are still wet?”

You give him your best innocent look “I was eager to get to the door.”

Rex hums in thought before giving you a stern glance “So your wet fingers wouldn’t have anything to do with the sounds I heard through your door?” He wraps his other arm around your waist, keeping you nice and snug against him, locked in his embrace.

“How you were moaning my name like a loth cat in heat?” Your guilty look says it all. “Cyar’ika” he tsks.

You look away, embarrassed to have been caught with your hand in the proverbial cookie jar. “You said I wasn’t allowed to get off” you mumble to his shirt.

“What was that? You’ll need to speak up cyar’ika” Rex lets go of you hand and brings his underneath your chin, lifting your face up. You look over his shoulder, not ready to look into his eyes and see the disappointment there. He gives you chin a gentle shake “Eyes over here, I won’t ask again.”

While his tone is gentle, you just know that there will be consequences if you don’t listen, so you shyly meet his gaze and find faint amusement there.

Rex gives you a quick kiss “There’s my good girl. See what happens when you listen?” He smoothes the hair back away from your face and you’re spurred on to hear him call you good girl again.

“You said I wasn’t allowed to touch to get myself off” you huff “technically I wasn’t disobeying you.”

He moves a lock of hair behind you ear. "And if I hadn’t knocked on the door, would you have been able to stop yourself from cumming?” Rex leans his head next to yours, his mouth trailing up to you ear. “Would you have been able to stop yourself from finding completion with fingers that weren’t mine?”

You can’t find the words, so you just shake your head.

That seems to be the answer he's looking for, as he starts to kiss his way down your neck. “Oh mesh’la, while you might not have disobeyed me, you were well on your way to doing so.” He feels you grab the fabric of his shirt, steadying yourself. “There must be some sort of punishment for you.”

The way he said that sends shivers run down your spine. “And what type of punishment were you thinking of?” You ask, tilting your head, exposing more of your neck.

“Nothing terrible, but something I know we’ll both enjoy.” He suddenly picks you up, listening to your little eep as your legs wrap around his waist. “Plenty of time to figure it out later, Right now,” he grins as he walks towards your bed “I want to hear you moaning my name again mesh’la.”

You bounce a little as you’re dropped on the bed, and your hurry to take your shirt off. You stop when you hear the “Not so fast” from Rex. Confused you look up at him.

His palm caresses the side of your face, “I’ve waited so long to see you like this mesh’la, eager and ready for me, let me unwrap my present.”

Your eyes widen before you get a mischievous twinkle in them. Lying back, you place your arms above your head, and enjoy the way that Rex’s breath hitches. “I wouldn’t dream of denying you Sir” you purr “by all means, unwrap away.”

Rex is over you in a heartbeat, legs straddling yours, hands by your head. “Such a brat” he growls before kissing you. While he may have let you lead the earlier kiss, he makes sure that you know he’s in control this time, and he wants to take every gasp and moan you can give him. Rex is fierce in his domination, sucking on your tongue before pushing his own into your mouth. He’s pleased that you give your all as well, kissing him back just as fierce, arching up into his touch and sighing out your eagerness for more.

He starts tugging your shirt up, fingers grazing over your breasts before giving them a squeeze, swallowing down your heady moan. You sit up, breaking the kiss momentarily so he can whip off your shirt before his mouth is back on yours, hungry for more. Rex traces the lace of your bra before reaching around your back to find the clasp.

You use his shoulders as leverage, wrapping your arms around him so you can arch up, undulating your body along his. You can feel how hard he is through his pants. Maker he’s huge! You think to yourself as you writhe against him, looking for more friction.

Rex grunts before bracing one arm on the bed, the other holding you closer to him so he can grind down, letting your feel just how eager he is for you while still kissing you.

Easing you back onto the bed he kisses down your neck again, hearing you gasp and moan as he sucks bruises onto your skin, each mark his own brand claiming you as his. Rex feels as you tilt your head, offering up more skin as his canvas, his to decorate however he wished. He stops at the spot just before your neck meets your shoulder and bites down, your Ah! music to his ears. He nibbles and sucks, worrying the skin between his teeth, causing the skin to bloom a darker colour.

When he sits back to look at his handiwork he’s satisfied with what he sees. While his mark could be hidden by a high collar, if it were to move just the slightest bit, anyone could see that you were taken. Rex takes you in, eyes flutter and panting hard. He can feel himself twitch in his pants. Fuck you’re gorgeous. He watches as you run one of your hands up his arm, turning to nuzzle his palm when he moves some wayward hair from your face. All the while you’re still smiling at him, soft and happy. If this was to be Rex’s last day alive, this is the image he would think of before he goes marching forward.

Before he forgets he’s meant to be making you scream his name, Rex looks down and smirks. Easing a finger underneath the band of your panties he stretches the fabric before letting it go, hearing your yelp.

“As delightful as these are, they need to go” he commands and starts to shimmy your underwear down your legs. You wiggle your hips up to try help him and Rex moves off your legs to pull your panties off the rest of the way. Tossing them somewhere over his shoulder he rearranges your legs so that they are on either side of his hips and looks at your glistening folds, a victor come to claim his spoils.

His voice is reverent when he speaks “You don’t know how hard it was to walk away from you earlier on.”

You pout up at him “Sure looked pretty easy to me. You weren’t walking like a newborn fathier.”

He chuckles, “No, but you also didn’t have this to maneuver out of sight.” He rubs himself through his pants, bringing your eyes down to his movements “Try walking when you have a tent in your front.”

You snort at the picture that makes and Rex grins down at you, seeing your pout turn into a smile. “The good news this time mesh’la, is that there are no more interruptions.” He watches your hopeful gaze “That means, I get to have you all to myself, however I want.” Rex runs his hands up your thighs, feeling you shiver beneath his touch ‘and right now, what I want is to taste you.” He moves back, just far enough so that he can lie down on his front, placing your thighs over his shoulders.

“But I though you wanted me to come on your fingers” you whine before it turns into a yelp, scowling at Rex. “You pinched me!” You accuse him.

“And I’ll do it again if you keep behaving like a brat” he looks up at you from between your thighs and you catch your breath at the sight. “The bet did say anything, and I’ve decided to change my mind on where I want you to cum.” He uses his thumbs to spread your folds, watching you clench in anticipation “I want you to cum on my tongue.”

“Re-aaah!” Whatever you were going to say gets cut off in a high moan as Rex licks a broad stripe up your slit before sucking on your clit. You tried to wrap your legs around his head but his hands have anchored themselves on your thighs, keeping them spread apart, keeping you open for him to taste.

He flutters his tongue over your pearl before nibbling around it, taking in your reactions, what motions you like best, what gets you to moan the loudest, what gets you screaming his name. A harsh suck causes you to arch your back, grinding your head into the pillow. Rex circles an arm around your hips to keep them from flying up. He can feel you grinding back as he licks up your folds, gathering the slick that’s pooled there.

“Rex, please!” You sob as you writhe in his grasp “Please let me cum!”

“Not yet mesh’la” he hums, the vibrations making your twitch and moan “I’m not done tasting you yet.”

Rex continues to lap at your cream before inserting one finger, slowly pumping it in, mouth moving back up to your clit. Your whole body starts to shake, beads of sweat forming on your skin. It’s still not enough to get you over the edge and you cry out.

“Please Sir! Please, I need more!” You coherent enough to remember that good girls ask nicely. “Please Sir, could you put another finger in my pussy, I need you to fill me up. Pleasepleaseplease.” You can feel his smug smile against your folds.

“Since you asked so nicely, I can give my good girl what she wants.” He hums before adding a second finger, feeling you clench around him. Whimpering, you feel him stretching you out, pumping in and out of your pussy, keeping you on the edge of your orgasm. It’s so frustrating because you can feel it, it’s right there! It's like Rex knows and is purposely making you wait. You try to solve the problem yourself.

“I need more, need you to go faster.” You cry as you try to grind up against his hand, looking for more friction to ease the ache.

“Patience mesh’la, I’ll get you there, all in good time.” Rex says as he continues his maddeningly slow pace.

A high whine leaves your throat “But I want it now! The war will be over by the time you get me off!” You know you shouldn’t be taunting him, not when his fingers are knuckle deep inside you, stringing out the pleasure, but some part wants to see how far you can push him before he loses control. “Perhaps if you’re too tired that pilot can take over, let you catch your breath.”

He goes completely still, his digits ceasing their ministrations. Rex pulls them out, the slick sound loud in the otherwise quiet room, even you’re holding your breath at your daring.

Rex is just staring at you, face blank and you can hear the warning klaxons go off in your head. You fucked up. You fucked up and he’s going to see this was a mistake. He’ll leave and that’ll be it. Sitting up, you open your mouth to try and apologize when he shakes his head, gaze stern. You feel tears prick at the corners of your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall.

Finally, Rex starts to speak "It seems that my little brat is back, demanding things again.” He shakes his head “This won’t do.”

You hiccup in relief “So you’re not going to leave?”

His face softens for a moment. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily cyar’ika” he says before giving you his Captain look. “No, I’ve decided on your punishment ner aikiyc ad’ika. Hands up by the wall.”

You hasten to obey, putting your wrists together above your head. You watch as Rex moves away, keeping the whimper behind your teeth.

He doesn’t say anything as he starts to undress, taking his time placing his armour by your chair and folding each item of clothing as it’s taken off, prolonging the wait. Rubbing your legs together, you watch him undress, each part of him revealed to your wanting gaze. He doesn’t give you a chance to really look as he takes something out of his belt and moves back at your side. You look at what’s in his hands and can’t help but gasp.

Binders. Magnetized binders. Imagining yourself, bound to his mercy, sends a rush of dark desire through you. While you’ve only thought about what it would be like to be restrained, you never brought it up in your past relationships. The only excitement they seemed to enjoy was changing up positions. It seems Rex will give you want you secretly want.

Rex can see how intent you are on the binders, biting your lip and oh, you like his idea. That is something to explore another day. Maybe if you do well with the binders, he can experiment and see how you’d look all wrapped in ribbon, blue ribbon. He can already picture you bound up, wearing his colours. Putting that thought away for now, Rex needs your attention on what he’s going to say, so he leans over you so that your eyes are on him, and only him.

“Since you can’t seem to wait for what I give you, you get to wear these.” He dangles the binders before moving them back to the side. “Do you know about the light system”

You nod eagerly, “Yes Sir.”

He smirks, “Good, one tap for green, two for yellow and three for stop. Do you understand?

You tap your hand against the headboard.

“Good girl.” He starts to remove his gloves when he pauses, thinking. He looks back up at you with a smirk on his face and you know he has another idea.

He finishes taking off his gloves “Since you like to run your mouth, I think I need to keep it busy.” He takes his thumb and rubs it over your mouth. You open your mouth and suck on the digit, tasting the salt from his skin.

Rex growls “So needy for something to suck on. I’d give you my cock but you haven’t earned it yet.” You whine around his thumb, looking at him from under your lashes. “ I was going to tell you you’re not allowed to make a sound, or I’ll stop whatever I’m doing, but we both know you’re not going to listen.” He pulls his thumb from your mouth and you flush. “No, we need a bit more practice with that.”

Rex holds up a balled-up glove “Will you be my good girl and use this as a gag?”

Quickly you nod, already opening up your mouth so he can place the fabric there. He chuckles at your eagerness. Once that’s done he gets to work on the binders, placing them around your wrists before magnetizing them.

“All good? Not too tight?” He asks.

You tap once on the wall and light up with the smile he gives you. One smile from Rex makes Naboo seem like a dump, he’s that beautiful.

He presses his forehead against yours, breathing deeply. “Remember mesh’la, if you need to stop, for any reason, three taps. No toughing it out to please me.”

He waits to hear your tap before he grins, settling between your thighs again. “Now where was I?” He muses “Ah yes, right here.” He shoves his face in your pussy, going straight for your centre, licking right into your heat. Your shriek is muffled by the glove and while he’s disappointed he can’t hear you call his name, knowing that you’re not holding back your sounds is a pleasure all in itself.

Rex works his tongue deep into your core, licking and slurping up your arousal, the lewd noises mixing with your whimpers. “You taste so good mesh’la, like fucking sweet cream” he growls, the vibrations making you squirm in his grasp. He wraps his arms around your thighs, pulling you closer and feels your body shake with pleasure. Widening your stance, Rex props your legs on his shoulders, nose bumping your clit as he continues licking up your folds. He wasn’t joking when he said wasn’t a small man, but like a good girl, you’re making it work.

He lets you grind your hips against his face, working to get more friction to bring you closer to the edge. A squeeze to each of your thighs causes another gush of slick to rush out that Rex is eager to lap up. Stars there’s so much! He can feel it coating his beard, there’s so much. Your legs are pushing against his back, trying to bring him closer and he can feel your toes curl when he nips your folds. He soothes the skin with a long lick, listening to you cry out though the gag.

Rex pulls away for a moment, moving to his knees and he can see you straining again the binders, wanting to touch but unable to. He drags his fingers down the inside of one thigh, feeling you jump and twitch as he hits your sensitive spots. “You’re doing so well cyare” he coos as he grips each of your thighs, slowly pressing them closer to your chest, “Such a good girl.”

He watches you moan as your pussy clenches around nothing, while slick drips down onto the bed below. Rex drags his finger through your mess before rubbing your clit, seeing your eyes roll back in your head, a long whine escaping your throat. “Naughty thing, you like it when I call you good girl.” You nod eagerly as he chuckles darkly. Moving his hand back to your leg he nuzzles your thigh before kissing his way down. “Your legs are a little bare mesh’la” he says when he gets to one of your sensitive spots “I think they need a little decoration” and nips hard enough to bruise. Your moan is long and loud, and it spurs Rex on. He makes sure to thoroughly leave as many love bites as possible, taking his time to make sure his creations last. Rex wants you to remember him when he’s not with you, each time you get dressed, when you move, that he’s the one who made you writhe in pleasure, and that he'll give you new ones when these fade away. If you ask nicely.

Your cries fail to make him move any faster, and once he’s done with one leg he moves to the other, marking it up with his brand. You’re a quivering mess by the time he makes it to your core, slipping a finger inside and you moan as you feel another rush of slick help to ease his way in. Rex curses under his breath, curling his finger just right, making your hips jerk up. “Haar’chak! I bet you’d take all of me if I fucked you right now” he inserts another finger and you cry out, listening to the squelching sound as he thrusts his fingers in at a relentless pace. “Would you like that mesh’la? Stuff you so full of my cock, ruin you for anyone else?”

You nod frantically, feeling the coil in your belly pull tight, your pussy clenching around his fingers inside of you.

Rex adds a third finger and Maker you can feel him stretching your walls, making you feel full, but wanting so much more. His hand is soaked in you arousal, and you would be embarrassed by how much there is, but you’re beyond caring. He suddenly leans forward and sucks your clit into his mouth and you howl through the gag, just a little bit more-

Rex pulls back at the last minute, slowing his movements to a mere crawl and you cry out your frustration, hips grinding back to get some stimulation, but he stops that as soon as it begins. He rubs soothing circles in the crease of your thigh “That’s it mesh’la, just ride this out, I got you.”

Again! He denied you again! You try to roll onto your side, to ease the ache, but Rex prevents you, keeping you spread out. Shooting a glare his way, you whine as you feel your orgasm start to fade, turning into a slow simmer.

He keeps his fingers moving, just barely, making sure to remind you of their presence, and that your pleasure is literally at his fingertips. “This is the last part of your punishment cyare” he says and watches as you narrow your eyes at him, pouting even through the gag. You are too cute he chuckles to himself, feeling a smirk makes its way onto his face “Don’t worry cyar’ika, you’ll get to cum, but only when I say you can.” Rex watches the emotions play out on your face as he starts moving his hand again, seeing the tears gather in your eyes and your chest rising and falling with your panting breaths. Yes, he might want to keep this vision of you for a while.

Rex does this for ages, building you up, watching your body tremble under his touch before easing off. Again and again until you’ve lost track of everything except the touch of him. You whimper as he pumps his fingers slowly, finding the part of you that makes you see stars, and just grazes over it. Again, and again. No pressing against it, no rubbing it, just a light touch. Letting your orgasm build up and stay on the edge. When you start to feel like you’ll finally fall, Rex eases off, pulling his hand away completely this time.

Your head is buzzy from this last denial, so you don’t notice when Rex pulls away, your legs flopping down without him to hold them up. When you see he’s not there, you immediately look around, trying to find him. When you do you can’t help but stare.

“Something you like, mesh’la?”

You would have answered except that your mouth is still stuffed with Rex’s glove, and you realized it was the one he used to get you off the first time, however long ago that was. The tang of you lingers on the fabric and some desperate part of you hopes that it won’t fade away, that there will always be some part of you with Rex when he’s away on missions. You whimper around your gag, pulling uselessly at the binders around your wrists as your eyes rake over his form, taking in the sight before you and oh, what a sight he is.

Rex stands at the end of the bed, all smug and relaxed, as if he hadn’t just been on his knees eating you out, denying you yet another orgasm. With a smirk, he casually stretches an arm behind his head, putting himself on display He watches your face as your eyes greedily take him all in, lingering on his thick waist.

You loved it when you sparred and you wound up sitting on his waist, feeling him spread you out as his hands held you in place. Judging by how his cock twitches you know Rex is thinking the same thing as you, how you must have looked to him, and it makes you squirm in place. Swallowing hard, you drag your gaze to what you need most right now.

While Rex may seem relaxed, his cock looks as hard as beskar. Thick and full, it practically touches his belly, demanding your attention. There's a pearl of pre-cum at the head of his cock that slides down his shaft, before dripping onto his balls. You preen a little, knowing that’s the effect you have on him. You squirm, the sight of his dick makes your mouth water, wanting a taste for yourself, but you know that you’ll have to wait until Rex has finished punishing you.

A slick sheen of sweat covers your body, with smaller droplets pooling between your breasts, evidence of how thorough Rex has been in his ministrations of keeping you just on the edge of your orgasm. It’s been a sweet torment, being denied your release, but stars you thrive on his attention. He’s been hyper focused on what makes you moan, what touch gets you rocking against his face, memorizing you little tells that you’re about to cum. Only he can get you worked up like this, ready for the fall, and what bliss it will be when that happens.

Rex kneels back on the bed, slowly making his way up your body, leaving kisses and nips along the way, keeping your attention on him. By the time he is level with your face you’re back to being a quivering mess, needy whines filling the air.

“Easy mesh’la” Rex says as he cups your face “you’re being such a good girl, you’ll get to cum soon.”

You nuzzle his hand as you put on your best tooka eyes, hoping it will sway him.

He tsks “Remember our bet cyar’ika. You said if I win I get to do anything I want to you, however I want.” As he’s saying this his hand slowly wraps around your throat, applying the tiniest bit of pressure, testing your reaction. Your pulse jumps and judging by the feral grin Rex gives you he felt it too.

Rex leans in closer to whisper in your ear “I won mesh’la. That means you’re mine and I’m nowhere near finished with you."

To be continued

Ner aikiyc ad’ika - My desperate little one (very rough translation)

Haar’chak! - Damn it!

Tag list @samrubio @justanotherstarwarswhore @bvcketfvcker @grumpymuffinmama @justanothersadperson93 @fat-zygerrian @deewithani @idolized-sea-salt

#Captain Rex #Rex #Oldman Rex #Rebel!Rex #Rex x reader #Rebel Rex x reader #First fic #Yay me #Wooo boy this ended up being longer than I thought it would #Rex be showing off those Dom vibes #Dom!Rex #I need a Dom Rex in my life #Rex is going after reader like a king #Rex makes the reader all 💦#Things are heating up now 🔥

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aimless-imagines-for-fun · 4 years

Text

His

Paring :: mafia dark!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader

Warnings :: 18+, Smut/NSFW, Dark Themes, Possessiveness, Oral(M Recieving), Deep Throating

Word Count :: 2,787

Summary :: Bucky’s had a long day and you’re the only one he can release his stress on

A/N ::....there may or may not be another part... idk yet.... I just really like Mafia Bucky

Some days were better than others, for both you and Bucky.

So far, your day had gone swimmingly. You woke up, did an easy morning stretch to help you wake up, and proceeded to clean around your house in your favorite sundress. There wasn’t much to do, with the house usually clean due to Bucky hiring professional cleaners to come once a week. Still, the dishes weren’t going to do themselves.

The highlight of your day was a package being delivered. A book that you had pre-ordered from one of your favorite authors. After you cooked your lunch, you spent the rest of your day reading the book, sitting on the dark grey couch in your large living room. That was all you could do besides watching tv or doing a small hobby to keep you occupied until Bucky came home.

Bucky’s day, on the other hand, was infuriatingly long. He was a businessman and a mob boss, meaning he’d usually have long days. If he was lucky, he’d just have to deal with some idiot trying to cheat him. Today was an unlucky day. He received a visit from Helmut Zemo, the head of a Sokovian Mafia trying to start up in Brooklyn.

Bucky sat at his desk, leaning back in his leather chair as he stared at the man who just entered his office.

“I already told you the deal Zemo. There’s no bargaining, if you don’t like it save your breath and get the hell out of here.”

The Sokovian ignored him, walking over to a large bookshelf that was against the wall. “You know, for the most powerful man in Brooklyn, you’d be surprised how quickly some of your ‘people’ are willing to betray you if you offer them enough cash.”

Bucky’s eyes narrowed, a scowl forming on his face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Zemo glanced over for a moment. “The docks.”

A few nights prior, one of Bucky’s incoming shipments of illegal weapons had been robbed. A small number of men were killed, and the rest were injured. There was also a weird symbol that had been spray-painted around the docks, a sign that whoever had done this was publicly declaring war.

Bucky’s jaw clenched and he was now sitting up straight in his seat. “You did that?” “It was quite easy to.”

“So why the fuck are you here now? I could put a bullet through your head in a second.”

Zemo laughed, finally turning to face the other man. “You won’t because you know I’m not stupid enough to come here without just as many men you have.” He let out a small breath, taking a few steps forward. His gaze moved down to Bucky’s left hand, an eyebrow raising with curiosity. “You haven’t married her yet? She’s a lovely woman.”

In an instant Bucky stood up, his hands balled into fists. If a look could kill, Zemo would be dead and his body burning.

“I came to tell (Y/N) thank you. Not long ago, one of my guys got a bit lost and she helped him. Pietro said she was ‘the kindest girl he’d met’ and ‘extremely helpful and friendly.”

Bucky cursed in the back of his mind. It sounded exactly like something you’d do, you were kind and naive by nature, simply wanting to help people when they needed it. It was what drew him to you, and it seemed like it was attracting unwanted attention from others now.

“I’m gonna give you ten minutes to get the hell out of my territory.”

“Why so generous?”

“It’s a nice neighborhood,” Bucky replied sarcastically.

Zemo walked back towards the door, understanding he had pushed the man far enough. A coy smile crept on his face, looking at Bucky one last time. “I’d keep her better guarded and up to speed if I were you. She’s too innocent to be involved with you.”

Once Zemo and his men left Bucky nearly tore apart his office. It took Sam and Steve a good hour to calm the man down and make sure he didn’t do anything reckless. Once he cooled down, Sam revealed that Tony Stark had been the one to cross Bucky. Tony’s father was the previous big bad until Bucky came around.

“I don’t give a fuck what you do Steve, just make sure Tony doesn’t think he’s not get strung up on a tree after I shoot that Sokovian bastard in the head.”

His voice was full of annoyance and his grip on the steering wheel of his car was so tight the whites of his knuckles were visible. It was one thing for Zemo to publicly humiliate his authority by robbing him, but he had indirectly threatened you by mentioning you to Bucky. You were his and his alone. He had invested far too much in securing you, ensuring that you’d never leave him.

Bucky leaned on the doorframe of your apartment’s bedroom, arms crossed over his chest as he watched you step around the room. “What are you doing?”

“Going home,” You muttered, continuing to pack your suitcase.

“That’s on the other side of the country.”

“I know.”

“I can’t keep an eye on you if you’re in LA.”

You looked up from the clothes you were packing, glaring at him. “I know.”

Bucky let out a huff. “So you also know I can’t make sure you’re safe.”

You let out a dry laugh, eyes rolling. “I’ll probably be a lot safer once I’m far away from you.”

The man pushed himself off the door frame, now approaching you with long strides. “You’re not leaving (Y/N).”

You threw the shirt you hand in your hand down, turning to face him. “Yes, I am Bucky, because you lie to me!” Your voice was strained, eyes looking up at him full of pain.

“I didn’t lie to you-”

“Yes, you did! You lied to me about what you did and you hid the truth!”

When you and Bucky started dating, he told you he ran a large ‘supply and demand’ business in Brooklyn and that was it. Like the naive girl you were, who had just moved to the east coast, you believed him because you fell for him hard at first. He spoiled you and made you feel like a princess in public, and in private you helped him release all the pent-up stress he had built up from work. A few months later, you finally figured out why Bucky was always so protective of you and wanted to know where you were 24/7.

Bucky could see the tears you were holding back, mentally cursing at himself for being the cause. He cupped your cheek with his normal hand. You had to resist the urge to lean into his hold.

“I know I hurt you, and I’m sorry, but…” His voice trailed off. In a swift motion, his metal hand wrapped around your waist lifting you up and over his shoulder. “You’re not leaving me (Y/N).”

“James Buchanan Barnes! Put me down this instant!” You slammed your fists into his back to no avail. “I hate you! I hate you! I hate you!”

“I love you too darling,” He mumbled, proceeding to walk you out of your apartment.

You were on the fourth chapter of your book when you heard a car door slam. You sprung up from your seat, moving as quickly as you could to greet Bucky at the front door. When you got there, you saw he had already let himself inside. His brows were knit together, looking down at the door’s locks.

“Why isn’t the door locked?” He questioned before he even saw you.

With the territorial instinct he had when it came to you and his meeting with Zemo earlier, it was clear he was not happy about such a small thing, no matter your excuse.

“Oh, I must’ve forgotten to lock it when I got the mail today,” You said quietly.

He had lectured you multiple times about how important it was you locked the door, even before you move in with him.

You wrapped your arms around his torso, properly greeting him with a smile like you did every day. You had done this so many times, you noticed how long it took for him to softly wrap a single arm around you before walking away. He was upset.

“Go to the bedroom and wait. Now,” He ordered.

Your heart started racing, wondering what was going to happen to you. If he had stress pent up, he would either wait until after dinner or start kissing you roughly the second he stepped in. He had only acted like this when you pushed him to his limit, like when you threatened to leave him or attempted to run away when he first forced you to live with him.

You sat at the edge of your shared bed, hands holding and fiddling with the hem of your dress. When Bucky was this angry, he was painfully rough to the point where you would begin crying. You quickly began thinking of everything you had done recently, wondering what could’ve pushed him to this point.

He walked in, jacket off and the sleeves to his white button-up rolled up to his elbows. Even though your mind was screaming with fear, your body started heating up with desire seeing him. Especially when your eyes glanced down to his pants and saw a hardness forming. ‘Fuck, he’s been thinking about this.’

Walking up to you, Bucky grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, forcing you to look up at him. As a sort of last-ditch effort to get some kindness from him, you gave him a doe-eyed look.

He leaned down, pressing a long kiss against your lips before pulling away. “Get on your knees.”

You took in a deep breath, accepting he wouldn’t be gentle. You pulled away from his cold metal hand, sinking down to stand before him on your knees. Keeping eye contact with him, you managed to under his brown leather belt and navy trousers. You looped your fingers at the hem of his pants, pulling them down along with his briefs just enough for his fully erect shaft to be freed.

With both of your small hands wrapping around his shaft, you could feel yourself growing wet at the sound of his soft groan. At first, you started stroking his length slowly, leaning your face closer to lick the tip and swirl your tongue around the head.

Bucky didn’t allow you to continue this very long. Only a small dribble of precum was licked up before he grabbed a fist full of your hair from the back of your head and pushed himself further in. Another groan escaped him feeling the warmth of your mouth around his cock. He hit the back of your throat and you gagged, not yet ready for him to go deeper. He did it again two more times, warning you that he planned on having you take all of him in his mouth.

Your hands moved up to his thighs to hold yourself steady and you relaxed your throat the best you could in preparation. Once he started to push his dick further in, you could feel tears start to well up in your eyes as he went down your throat. You moaned each time he shoved his shaft down your throat, sending a soft vibration on his shaft.

Bucky eventually started thrusting his hips into your mouth, fully fucking your mouth as tears started to fall out of your eyes. Watching your glossy eyes stare up at him with his cock down your throat he nearly lost it, feeling his ballsack tighten. Not wanting to cum just yet, he pulled out, a string of your saliva falling off his dick and dribbling down your mouth. You gasped and began panting for air, wiping away your drool with the back of your hand.

He sat on the edge of the bed now, pulling your hips to stand in front of him once you stood up. “Off.”

You took off your dress, followed by your bra and wet panties. Already knowing what was going to happen, you moved to straddle his hips. You and Bucky had had sex numerous times before, but you always needed a moment to get used to his size. He wasn’t going to allow that.

With his large hands on your hips, he forced you down his entire dick, groaning at how tight your walls clenched around him.

“Bucky!” You cried out, body tingling as he filled you up, balls deep.

He held your hips with such a strong grip you were sure there were going to be marks after. He bounced you up and down his cock, watching you with a dark gaze as you moaned and whimpered against him. Only he could make you feel like this, act like this for him.

He thrusted his hips up, and you moaned loudly, back arching as he hit a sweet sensitive spot. “Please!”

“Please, what?” Bucky asked, knowing full well what you wanted. He wanted you to beg.

“Fuck me right there Bucky! Please!”

More than happy to comply, he proceeded to slam into that same spot, your breath growing faster and cunt tighter each time it was hit. His breath was becoming heavy, and his movements ragged.

He watched as you looked down at him fucking you and saw you shudder. “Ah!” Your walls tightened and your release hit you, juices pouring out. Feeling you release triggered his own orgasm, releasing inside of you. You could feel spurt after spurt of hot cum filling you up and your tight cunt gladly took it.

He finally stopped bouncing you, rolling his hips into you and allowing you a few seconds of rest. He pulled his limp dick out but watching your pussy drip with a mixture of both your cum, he found himself hard once again.

You barely had any time for your mind to clear up after, your eyes widening as Bucky forced you on your hands and knees. Not sparing a single second he rammed back into you, his hand smacking your ass hard.

You let out a cry, the stinging pain from the spank only lasting for a short while before you felt the pain and pleasure of him filling you up again.

“Tell me how much you love it,” He breathed out, watching your ass bounce against his hips with each thrust.

“Bucky!” You moaned out, your walls tightening around him again.

You barely had any time to recover from your last high and still sensitive. You started moving your ass against him, feeling his ballsack slapping your clit each time he thrusted.

“I love it so much!” You breathed out. “I love feeling your big dick fill me up and fuck me!”

You bit your lip, feeling the juices drip down your thighs. Your arms were starting to grow weak, barely able to hold yourself when you screamed again. Your pussy tightened and released, begging him to cum and fill you up again.

His large hands buried into your hips, continuing to fuck you as you released around him again. His build-up was growing with the sight of you taking his cock, thrusts growing sloppy.

Bucky wasn’t blind and could tell your arms were going to give out. So, he released his grip on you with his metal arm to lean over you. He wrapped his arm around your chest, holding you up while squeezing your breast.

Hearing your soft whimpers as he still fucked you did it for him, his hips bucking to release another hot load inside of you. He stayed in you until he finished then pulled out, releasing you to collapse on the bed.

Weakly, you turned yourself on your back to look at him, face flushed and tear-stained. He lowered himself above you, metal arm pressed down near the side of your head to keep him above you. Bucky’s eyes danced over your facial features. His gaze moved down, watching your chest rise with each pant before looking at the mess in between your legs.

With his other hand, he reached down and dragged two fingers up your wet folds, gathering the juices on them. When he raised them back up to your face, both of your hands grabbed him and began to suck and lick his fingers clean.

“Christ you’re fucking beautiful.”

He pulled his fingers away, smashing his lips against yours. You wrapped your hands around his neck, a hand moving up to play and tug on his hair as you kissed.

#bucky barnes x reader #dark!bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes smut #dark!bucky barnes smut #bucky barnes imagine #james bucky barnes #james bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan #sebastian stan x reader #mafia bucky barnes #mafia!bucky barnes x reader #sebastian stan smut

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thewritingginger · 3 years

Text

Welcome to Kinktober 2021 Lovelies!!!

This is my first year of ever trying this so wish me luck and be kind to me if I'm late, especially cuz I am in school right now.

However this was one I had finished ahead of time :D So I hope I’ve started this Kinktober off on a good note.

Also please excuse any mistakes lol

Fandom: Attack on Titan Pairing: Armin Arlert x GN! Reader Word count: 1.3k+ words Warnings: 18+, Sub! Armin, Light dirty talk, Teasing, Cursing, Pet names (Angel, Baby, Sweetheart, Lovey), Hand job, Spit, Cum licking

Enjoy ~

Coming home from a hard day of training Armin told you he wanted you to touch him and you obliged. Though, perhaps not exactly how he was hoping.

Making your way into his room you immediately push him onto the edge of his bed. Leaning over, you give him a quick heated kiss whilst pulling up the hem of his shirt. Breaking away you lower to your knees, his legs spread extensively for your access. He reclines back onto his palms looking relieved.

“Oh Angel, you always know what I need.” He coos. You just return him with a sweet smile, because little does he know you do know what he needs and most importantly exactly what he wants however you might just make him wait for it.

Perhaps even beg a little while you’re at it.

“Of course, baby.” You say, running your hands up and down his thighs watching the bulge in his pants pushing against the zipper with every light touch.

Your palms move up his thighs and graze his stomach, his abs contract at the touch earning you a sigh from your boy. Your fingers make work on his belt, slowly pulling it from the loops of his pants before discarding it beside you. As you deal with his button and zipper you can feel Armin becoming restless - which is exactly where you want him.

No, you don’t want to give him hope of pleasure then leave him hanging needy and unsatisfied. But there isn’t anything wrong in having a little fun before you do, is there?

Once his pants are fully undone you don’t bother to pull them down, there’s no reason to when all you need is right there. Armin begins to let out soft sighs and moans as you massage him through his navy blue underwear.

“Oh fuck, baby. Stop teasing me and just touch my cock, please.” His pleads are music to your ears.

“Shh, just relax Miny. I’ll take good care of your needy cock.” Batting your eyes as you continue to rub his clothed member and his thigh with your free hand. “You’re so pretty, Armin. I love the way your muscles contract with my every touch.” You really do. His lean torso is on full display for you and you can’t help the urge to lick a wet line up his abs.

“Guh, Angel please.” As much as you love to hear him begging, you're starting to feel sorry for the poor guy. It must be so painful to have his stiff cock trapped under his tight boxers, being touched but not getting enough.

Poor baby.

Putting him out of his misery you finally reach under his waistband and grab his throbbing manhood, it twitches in your hand at the contact. You let go once he’s free, rubbing your flat palm against the underside of his shaft, pushing him against his own abdomen, his precum leaking onto his stomach.

Finally wrapping your hand around him, smearing around the wetness on his tip with your thumb. The blonde is already unraveling, letting out a soft moan.

Straightening up you hover over his manhood letting a warm glob of spit ooze out from your lips coating his head. Satisfied, you return back to your kneeling position to start stroking him- which is when the real sweet music begins to play. Every slow stroke you make pulls a moan from him and with every twist of your wrist over his pink tip makes an airy mewl sing from his throat.

“Sweetheart, please. Please give me more.”

“Is this not enough for you, Armin? You said you wanted me to touch your cock. Is this not what you wanted?” You pout, looking up through your lashes.

“No-ah- not at all, Angel. You're touching me so good, just-.” He is struggling to talk through the teasing pleasure you are giving him. Squeezing his cock just a bit every time he tries to speak.

“Just what, Lovey?” You egg on. Wetting your palm you retrieve his unattended sack out from under his boxers to give them a little massage.

“I- Just- fuck!- Kiss me, Baby! Please. Anything. I just need more of you.” You love the way his beautiful face contorts in pleasure. Those big blue eyes bleeding with lust and need, you feel that with the look he is giving you he may even cry.

Letting go completely you rise to your feet, his brows raise but you don’t allow him to say anything before you push him back to lay flat on his bed. He scoots back so you have room to climb on. Straddling his legs he props up onto his elbows.

“Why are you so needy, Baby?” You ask sweetly as you continue stroking his length, he hisses through his teeth as the sudden reanimation of your movements.

“You just make me feel so good and I need it.”

“Need what?”

“Any-anything. You!” You can see his mind spinning for answers that would press you to do as he wishes.

“You have me, Armin.” You purr into his ear, your fist squeezing him every so tightly. “Are my hands not good enough for your needy cock? Because I can stop if that’s the case.” You enjoy the way his body reacts to that idea.

“No, no. Please don’t stop.” His eyes squeeze shut when you speed up your hand.

“That’s what I thought.”

Head falls back, his mouth ajar releasing soft pants and sweet whines. Your free hand cups his cheek.

“Look at me, Baby.” His eyes sag open, his lips parted. “You’re so pretty when I play with your cock.” You coo with a small smile. He tries to reach up and kiss you but you retract. “Nuh uh. Don’t get too excited, just let me take care of you.”

Placing your hand open under his chin you command, “Spit.” and “More.” He obeys.

“Good boy.”

You recline back on your knees to spread his spit all over his manhood. Coating his throbbing shaft and tightening balls with the warm slick. He groans at the added slip. With both your hands working him his brain is clouded and all that spills from his mouth are moans and pieced together praises.

“Ah God -shit- yes! Just like- oh Angel don’t sto- ah.” His cock twitches with anticipation of his climax, balls tightening in your palm. Squeezing and kneading them as you rapidly stroke and tease the tip of his leaking head.

“Oh god, Beautiful. I’m gonna cum.” His voice goes up an octave, becoming cute and shrill under your manipulating hands.

“Then do it, Baby. You deserve it. You’ve been so good for me.” Your hands are unrelenting, inching him closer to his peak. Praising and encouraging him towards the end of his rope. His cries fill the room. “Come on, Baby. You’re so close aren’t you?”

“God yes -fuck- you rub me so good, I can’t take it anymo- ha ah.” He couldn’t even finish his sentence before he erupted. Squirting hot milky ropes of cum on his bare chest.

“Good job, Baby.” You finally pull him in for a kiss, his lips lazely try to keep up with yours, as you continue to milk and overstimulate his twitching cock in your slowing hand.

Once his sack is completely dispensed onto his stomach he falls back on the bed. Chest heaving, cheeks flushed.

“Oh, you’ve made quite the mess, Miny.” He peers up when he feels your weight moving down his legs. “Let me clean that up for you.” You say as you drag your hot tongue over his toned stomach. Lapping up all his sticky cum dripping down him. He sighs, looking down at the erotic act.

Once you’ve finished, your lips glisten with a mixture of cum and saliva. Crawling back up his form you tentatively brush the stray locks of hair from his forehead. His hand caresses your cheek pulling you in for a kiss. Humming at the taste of himself on your lips.

“Do you feel better now?” You giggle, he just smiles.

“Immensely. However,-” He flips you over, his elbows resting on either side of your head. “I’m not satisfied.”

OK! There it is. My first ever Kinktober post!

Hope you enjoyed that and if you did I’d love to know your thoughts.

I am in school so there will be missed days but here's hoping for what I do get posted is satisfying :)

Till next time.

💛 ~

Kinktober Masterlist

#kinktober #kinktober 2021 #Day 1 #attack on titan #attack on titan smut #attack on titan armin #aot #aot smut #aot armin #aot armin x reader #armin arlert #armin x reader #armin arlert smut #x reader #x gn reader #smut

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flowerflamestars · 3 years

Note

i remember that you once said something about privateer nesta could you elaborate? please? *shrek cat eyes*

WHO TOLD YOU I AM COMPLETELY VULNERABLE TO THE CAT EYES??

okay, so admittedly I don't remember the context in which I said this?? But I still SUPER super love the idea

and it matches with what we'll call the Dream ACOTAR Extended Universe Plot, almost canon.

We begin with the final battle against Hybern. Tamlin dies, closing the loop of his tragic, misspent life. Amren stays dead, a magical being on to the next adventure.

Rhysand stays dead.

He functionally (magically) threw himself on a bomb, and took the whole blast. He's not the Cauldron- and no one man could repair what it once was, but he could contain the fatal, drastic implosion of an object that was meant to endure forever, fractured into more and more peices.

Why is this important?

Because it leaves a world where Feyre Archeron- twenty-ish, romantic hero, prop, prisoner- becomes High Lady in her own, true right.

(I don't think she's necessarily good at this job, because why would she be? It's not even her fault- Feyre has no idea about how faery politics work, no real tangible knowledge of her own inherited kingdom.)

But both the men who stole her and defined her and loved her and hurt her are dead.

And it not only sets her on a journey to become, on her own, an actual character in her own life, but it galvanizes the Archeron sisters.

Feyre's basically fucking comatose after the battle. Elain has been a mess this entire time, but after that last fight with Grayson, walking into the war and stabbing a king in the throat- she is as vital and herself as Nesta has seen her in years.

Nesta just watched her father die and felt nothing- and she hates herself for it. She and Elain had taken the head of the man who stole everything from them- and she doesn't have a single regret.

Feyre screamed until she could no longer- there's so much magic seething out her it hurts to look at-

There's a dark well inside herself that could rise. But why should Nesta let it? So what, if she doesn't mourn her father? He'd never cared about her and Elain- not when they were young, too busy and important to even speak to his own children. Not when they lost everything, and he'd tried one last time to sell them both into marriages to recoup the family loss. Not after, in the starving cold, no matter what she'd tried to force him into action.

Nesta had been mourning all along a human girls human life- what is an absent, neglectful, shitty in the most ordinary of ways human parent if not a part of that lost future?

Their sister owns a fucking country- their sister is, at this minute so hemmed in by her followers no one can see her, much less comfort her- there's a war camp falling apart around them- there's Nesta, Elain, and Azriel, unhurt, upright, alive.

(she does not let herself think that an hour before she'd been ready to die and thought it right, the ending the meant to be conclusion of her story. she does not think about how she'd wished Cassian healed beneath her hands and that he had healed, that she'd wept to learn she could do more than destroy.

that she'd still been weeping, her mouth bright with his blood, when he'd pulled away, dragged himself to Morrigan's waiting arms)

Nesta Archeron is alive. Her sisters are alive. They're free, and she'll be fucking damned if this all falls apart before Feyre can heal.

Nesta turns to Azriel and asks if he can take control of the legions.

She has no time for his blank, angry eyes- she knows he's hurt, he's mourning, he's lost- but she needs him. Cassian's...down. Rhys is dead. Feyre and Morrigan are not coming out of that tent.

And he just listens. Thoughtfully. Asks what Nesta intends to do.

And Nesta looks at Elain- soft, kind, gentle Elain who'd never once wavered now when life was on the line. Who hadn't cried a tear for their father, or for the man who'd kidnapped and then married their baby sister.

The danger wasn't over- and neither had the steel faded from Elain's spine.

Nesta tells Azriel she's going to find Keir.

Nesta isn't blind- she's walked the Hewn City, spoken to the eldest darkness. She was also at the joke of a Summit- Autumn wants new territory, Keir wants to rule Night. And here Night is, weakened, a lamb to slaughter.

Nesta's not going to lose again- she's not going to give these ancient, cruel lords another chance.

Elain grabbed her hand and squeezed- the one person, always, who Nesta never need explain herself to.

Aren't the High Fae technically Morrigan's Elain asked, a bare whisper as they walked through the camp.

It went without saying yes, but Nesta had never seen any indication they respected her enough to listen to her. She made a face, and Elain made one right back, rueful. She had eyes too, after all.

They're not going to listen to us in these clothes, Elain also told her.

She was right, of course. They were High Fae, and that mattered to those vile pricks, but they'd been outfitted for flight. She would do almost anything, actually, to be free of leather pants.

Which Elain, a gleam in her eye that Nesta was learning meant magic, dreamy and happy- led her precisely to a gold topped tent, stepped inside, bowed, and asked without a trace of hesitation if Helion Spellcleaver, Lord of Day, would perhaps do them the favor of loaning them some garments.

Solid gold eyes gleaming against blood and smoke tinged dark skin, beautiful, glorious Helion, smiled.

Day-white against Night- but also, Nesta knew, taking care with her crown of a braid, the splatter of blood left on her throat, her mouth, her cheeks like fine paint- white was the color of death.

Elain covered herself completely- shawl wrapped over her hair, tucked around her neck, breathing easier now, in human modesty- but hung from a golden belt that Helion, with the clear air of someone who knew something about seers, had found, metal hammered with stars and flames, was Truthteller, the long blade without a sheathe, black metal swallowing up light.

Keir was easy to find, and in fine form, surrounded by Darkbringers, who looped back behind the sisters the second they were close.

Nesta was not afraid- she'd thrown power into the sky and it had hurt. Not in depth, but because she was still holding on- it wanted out-it wanted to devour-

Elain dipped a flagrantly rude, swallow bob of a curtsey. Nesta didn't even bother- just let Keir hail them, royal family that they were. He liked the sound of his own voice, but he was also clever- they'd come here of their own volition and now they were trapped.

She could smell the reinforcements, the utter Autumn reek.

Nesta interrupted, and asked Keir to come and swear fealty to her sister.

It was never going to get the right answer, but it had to be said. It had to be heard.

She'd been right- they'd been right- Keir enjoyed the cruelty of getting close to Nesta, denying straight to her Archeron face that no, Rhysand's bloodline was ended. It was time, it was right, for the House of Truth to once more hold their throne.

He spoke his treason aloud, looming over Nesta- close enough to touch.

So Nesta did.

She'd willed Cassian alive and whole. It was so, so much easier to remember fire, death, drowning, to push and want the revolting man's destruction.

And when he fell, silvered fire that had filled his lungs spilling from his throat, Nesta did not flinch. She looked to the next lieutenant, a frankly indistinguishable golden haired pale-eyed blandly handsome man in black armor, and asked, if he, as the new commander of the Darkbringers, would like to give a different answer.

He did.

Azriel met them halfway back to Feyre, grim mouth flickering for a second at the sight of Elain, before looking, stone-faced, at Nesta beside her, leading a crowd of the highest ranked Night Court faeries she could find.

Keir? He asked.

Dead, Elain answered, and that was that.

The Shadowsinger fell in step with the Seer, a threatening shadow to two pale beacons.

It was Azriel who actually went inside the tent. Who said what needed to said, what made Morrigan splutter loudly enough to be heard outside, before she burst out the tent in a whorl of hair, before blanching.

Nesta had just enough control not to roll her eyes. They come to swear fealty.

And Morrigan, chewing her lip with all the dignity of a child- Elain and Nesta had been trained out of such gestures at eight, what did she think was happening here? - shook her head. She's not well, it can wait.

No, Azriel said, from behind her, it can't.

He was supporting what looked like the entirety of Feyre's weight. Dead-white, blue eyes a blaze, Feyre looked blearily out at all of them like she recognized no one.

Elain, treasure that she was, came forward to take her sister's other hand, whispering both condolence and explanation.

And so the High Houses of Night knelt in battlefield mud, and swore eternal loyalty to the youngest Archeron.

It was only after they were gone that Nesta hugged her sister- hard enough Feyre protested, a fresh batch of tears soaking Nesta's shoulder even before Elain joined them.

It's Azriel, voice a little less like a phantom, who tells Feyre they're handling things. That if she wants to rest more, that's fine.

She was so clearly shattered- Nesta half wondered how much of that Azriel can literally feel/hear with his shadow...things.

Feyre protests that there's things to do- Feyre makes it halfway through a sentence about plans before she says Rhysand's name like he's still alive and collapses in on herself like a wave crashing.

Nesta and Elain tuck Feyre back into the blanket pile. Nesta manages to kiss her forehead before Morrigan is there, hugging Feyre putting herself bodily between the sisters.

They leave, and outside, Azriel is waiting.

To hand Nesta a gaudy, enormous platinum ring. The seal of the Night Court- Nesta recognizes it from shipping manifests, but she'd never actually seen it as an adult. Here, as a faery.

Her thoughts on Azriel's powers hold true, as he answers the dismay: Rhys only used it when he had to. It had passed between the whole Court of Dreams hands, there had not been a vizier, a lord of stars, since the time of Rhysand's father.

Nesta puts on the hideous ring, barely flinching at the brush of magic, it resizing to her hand.

Elain grasps her other, squeezing, and asks Azriel who is next.

They work ceaselessly, pausing only to sleep. Azriel, Nesta is quite sure, isn't sleeping at all- until she goes looking for him with a question and finds him finally, finally out cold, face tucked in Lucien Vanserra's neck.

In silence and gestures, they come to something of an agreement- and when the Night Court comes to the table to talk peace, it's with Lucien. Jurian, who Nesta immediately liked.

By the time they return to the North, there is not a Lord one who does not know the names and nightmarish qualities of all three Archeron sisters.

Feyre mourns, and learns to govern slow. Cassian goes back to Illyria and does not return for a long, long time. Morrigan becomes Feyre's second- Nesta laughs, not altogether kind, when Lucien tells her this. No one has been able to answer her as to why, if Morrigan is so powerful, why did she not fight? what does she actually do?

What answers to her questions she does find are appalling. Why does Winter block our every turn? oh, Rhysand killed more than a dozen children. Why is Summer refusing our trade? Well, Rhysand stole their ancestral pride. Why is the Hewn City so wrathful at even the slightest form of intervention? Because Rhysand had left Keir to rule alone.

Nesta doesn't want to rule the fucking court. She thinks she could leave all of these politicians to rot- but she won't let Feyre misstep her way to death, shouldering a burden of her dead mate.

There's nothing they can give Winter but apology and so that's what Nesta does. On her knees, in a gilded palace of ice, stars caught in her hair and the seal on her. Kallias, bright and young, seems to know something about inherited problems- he does not ever forget, but he forgives, at least, the Archerons.

Summer is more complicated- but Nesta does what she can. Gives them every melted, ruined piece of the Book. Offers reparations for the next millennia. Ends up paying for what she is appalled and embarrassed to learn is a two hundred year old debt for a building the head of the Night Court's armed forces- Cassian, fucking Cassian the ghost haunting Nesta- had destroyed. During a brawl. At a solstice party.

She deals only with Cressieda, and they come to understand each other very well.

Nesta was not raised for politics and bullshit- her mother wanted her to marry a crown, but Nesta wanted the family empire. Trade. The Archeron legacy, denied to a girl. She likes Summer more than any place in Prythian, and she doesn't hide that. She relearns old lessons of tide and routes in secret, before Cressieda reveals that of course, she knows who the Archerons were.

It goes well, until Morrigan finds out what she's been doing, and tells Feyre.

The youngest Archeron had been doing better. Morrigan has been right by her side, through everything. Cassian is in Illyria, and Feyre understands why, writing him letters. She writes letters to Rhys too, if only to have a way to direct the words.

Azriel, spectral and busy she sees the least of, but Feyre never doubts his presence, keeping her safe. Elain comes, drags her out into sunlight, brings Lucien and it makes Feyre happy to see them together. Nesta comes too, with them both and alone, with papers from Feyre to sign, with affection sharp-edged but true.

Feyre knows she owes them all more than can be said- she's not stupid, she knows they're keeping Night together. That slowly those responsibilities will fall to her, when she's ready.

She does not think about how much of those responsibilities is cleaning up the tangled mess of betrayal Rhysand left behind. In her head, there is only Rhys- beloved and shadowed, kind and tortured.

Until Morrigan tells her that it's been acknowledged, in public, by Night, that Rhysand was a thief, and a murder of children.

Feyre loses her shit.

Rhysand had done what he had to. Who was Nesta, to say such things? She'd always hated Rhys. Rhys had always hated her, maybe he was right- the children. Rhys had mourned them in screaming nightmares, but he hadn't hurt them-

(Feyre does not stop to think it strange, that Rhys could have nightmares of memories not his own. That he might have fractured just a bit, under Amarantha. That the Red Lady had no daemati- that was why she'd kept Rhys all along.)

The fight is as ugly as can be imagined. And what proceeds is of course, worse. Feyre says terrible things she will ultimately regret and apologize for, but what becomes clear is that Morrigan thinks that Nesta means to hold power forever.

That she's taken advantage.

And Cassian, called home by rage, believes her.

That is, more than her ungrateful sister, more than the ongoing weight of cleaning up after a man she despised for good reason, the end of Nesta Archeron's Night Court career.

She'd thought she loved him- she'd been willing to die with him- but they'd lived. This was the life, the next life, and what did he think of her? That Nesta was a power hungry snob. That she was paying too much heed to politics.

That Nesta belonged quietly at home. That she should have learned to fight somewhere along that way- a point so convoluted it made Lucien laugh- that she hadn't learned anything that mattered.

That she had no right to kill Keir, because it had hurt Morrigan.

Had he ever, Nesta would wonder later, even liked her? Enjoyed anything about her but for that magical tether, telling him he was blessed with something special?

Nesta was something special, and she knew it.

And so she returned the ring to Azriel, packed up her possessions, and left.

First to Day, where Elain had bought a house. Fury and tears both met the explanation of what happened- fury and tears that turned to getting inadvisably drunk in sunlight, when Lucien and Azriel snuck away to join them.

For the first time in Nesta's adult life, she had no obligations. Magic, money, freedom- the whole world was out there.

She stopped wearing black. Learned pants where actually lovely, when they fit correctly and weren't made of leather. Learned Azriel could laugh, and Lucien was as clever as she'd always thought.

She read books, she ate fruit, she took Helion up on several of his more lascivious offers.

She thought of Cassian, and it ached, but not enough to go backward.

Elain's house was by the sea, right on the water. The scent of salt reminded Nesta of Summer- but also of her oldest, most secret dreams. The warehouses of goods, like mysteries to solve. The account books she stole, learning by candlelight the trade in her blood.

Ten years after the war, Nesta bought a ship.

She set out to be a merchant, use what she knew, but what happened was this: Nesta Archeron did not care anymore for rules. And so when she came upon Hybernian remnants-for they were an island kingdom, even more one with the water than Prythian- pillaging a Summer town, she destroyed them.

She stole their treasure, gave much of it back to the people.

Found, unexpected, that she had much more of a taste for marauding than she would have expected. There was still trade of course- proft made and shared- but Summer needed someone willing to do some destroying out on the sea.

Twelve years after the war, Nesta Archeron became a privateer under the Summer flag, pearls in her hair and a true smile on her lips.

Things grew, as all things do. Feyre wrestled herself the reins of government, stymied by the councils Nesta and Azriel set up as much as she often was by Azriel himself out of truly petulant action. Morrigan remained second, golden blades bright as her gowns within reach. Cassian became a sort of seneschal, reigning over Illyria in Feyre's name cold and alone as the wind through the mountains.

(Feyre thought he might never get over the war, but Azriel knew the truth.)

Elain took herself wherever the future led, a sort of mediator and councilor, walking in all Courts- but always back to home, that isolated green, green cove, where Nesta would land.

When war came again, there was no great Lordly alliance, no cut-throat summit. There was a fleet of ships whose sails where edged in purple, whose announcement across the water was silver fire, whose accompaniment were monsters of old.

Violence did not touch Prythians human shore, because Nesta Archeron did not let it.

She was death on the tide, and she remembered what shores had borne her.

She had a home in Summer, a place in Day, her family across the continent- she had her ships, full of faeries from every walk of life, who wanted as she did the freedom as much as the profit, the endless, endless blue, where sea meets sky.

It was eternity, and the Archeron sisters, free, had made it their own.

#i'm sorry this is literally a novel #but!!!#this is my dream plot actually #all about legacy and complicated feelings #the total failure of cassian as a partner #of rhys as a ruler #of feyre as a sister!!#there's so much love in the end but its not easy love #and they do have to fight for it #Nesta Archeron has always been exactly who she is and that shouldn't have to change #Elain has never GOTTEN to be who she is and that should change #Feyre standing alone is all i want yall #a true overturning of the patriarchy actually #yes this a luzreil universe #Elain...mhmm.... definitely just has a string a very romantic love affairs #marriage as a prospect caused her so much pain #she's done #I feel like Mor comes off almost too badly in this #but like #she would??#she's SO possessive of her people #and totally weird about Feyre's sister's from the start #Nesta having power?#Nesta having Azriel's backing?#NESTA BEING CASSIAN'S MATE?#its never going to go well

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the-iceni-bitch · 4 years

Text

A Surprise to be Sure

Pairing: Geralt/Fem!Reader

Words: 5761

Summary: You meet Geralt and Jaskier on the road and have a lovely little adventure in the kingdom of Temeria.

Warnings: Explicit language, explicit sexual content, explicit descriptions of violence, TW mentions of rape, SMUT, 18+

A/N: It’s here y’all, my b-day Geralt fic! I’m really happy with how this turned out and could honestly have published it without the smut, that’s how much I love this fic. It is definitely going to be part of a series so I hope you all enjoy! (PS I love writing Jaskier way too much and could honestly just do a full series of him having random misadventures all over the continent!) I’m tagging @navybrat817 because I know she loves some Henry Cavill

Jaskier had been belting the Fishmonger’s Daughter for the past 30 minutes, and Geralt was ready to murder him.

“Must you insist on shouting our position to every living creature in a 5 mile radius?” He hissed at the bard.

“List, my grumpy, hoar-headed friend. I need to be sure my voice is in top form if I’m performing at a royal ball. Now, you’ll feel better if you sing with me, Oooh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger!”

“I’m going to feed you that damn lute before we reach the castle if you don’t shut up. I can’t listen to this for three days.” The Witcher growled under his breath. He couldn’t figure out why he had agreed to accompany the irritating man on his journey, but the man always managed to convince him to go along with his stupid plans.

“Now, Geralt. You know you secretly love my singing. After all, how many jobs has that little song of mine rustled up for you, eh? Stop being so grouchy.”

He gave him a grunt. “Fine, can you at least sing something else?”

“Ah, but of course, my large, angry friend. Eh hem, You think you’re safe, without a care…”

“Gods, not that one.”

“Well, there’s no pleasing you is there. Ahh, what’s that noise?”

A feminine shriek split the air, causing a flock of birds to take flight only a few feet from the pair of riders. Roach of course didn’t mind, but Jaskier’s mount almost threw him, causing Geralt to smile.

“Gods, see, this is why I hate travelling on these creatures. Give me a nice coach ride any time. Come Geralt, let us see what fair maiden is in need of our assistance.”

“Our assistance?”

“Well, your assistance. C’mon Geralt, a damsel in distress, this is the perfect material for a new song.”

Geralt followed the idiot as he rode towards the sounds of distress, determined to keep him from getting himself killed. He didn’t really like getting involved in petty issues of the realms but knew that Jaskier lived for these tiny adventures.

They came upon you, surrounded by five men in soiled armor. Your cart had a broken wheel and was sinking into the snow and mud. One of the men had you pinned in the back of the cart by your neck as he buried his other hand in your skirts. The other men jeered at you as they kept their watch.

“Look Geralt, a fair maid waiting to be rescued, what could make for a better song? Ho there fellows, stop your raping or you’ll have to deal with my cantankerous companion here.”

“Move along, bard this doesn’t concern you.” One of the soldiers growled at Jaskier before spitting to the side. “Or, wait your turn and we’ll let you and your pal have her when we’re done.”

“Ah, Geralt, I’ll let you take care of them. Make sure to draw it out, a long fight always makes for a better song.”

“Oh, fuck this.” You hissed, pulling out the stiletto you had hidden in your skirts and gutting the man who was restraining you.

Jaskier turned his head and vomited as the man’s intestines seeped out of him and he crumbled to the forest floor. You flung your cloak off your shoulders as you drew the obscenely large longsword you had concealed beneath its folds and chopped off the hand of the next soldier who came charging at you before plunging it into his chest.

“I don’t know, bard. Seems like the maid has things under control.” Geralt grinned at his companion once he had finished emptying his stomach.

You wrenched the blade free as the two unhorsed soldiers rushed you. One of them tossed his own dagger at you and you used your sword to whip it back at him, catching him in the throat. You brought up your dagger and crossed the blades you were holding to catch the sword of your fourth opponent. You managed to loop the dagger under his hilt and wrenched the sword from his grasp as you let the momentum from his attack carry you the two of you backwards, flipping him over your head until you were straddling his chest. You gave him a small smirk as your drove your dagger through his eye.

“Shouldn’t we be doing something?” Jaskier asked as he watched the bloody show with abject horror painted on his face.

“What would you suggest bard? The woman seems to be able to handle herself, and I can’t say these soldiers seem particularly deserving of assistance.”

The final soldier had dismounted and was now striding towards you, twirling his sword around like an idiot peacock. You scowled at him before pulling a massive crossbow from beneath the packages in your cart and shooting him in the shoulder.

He went down with a soft grunt and you strutted over to him, crossbow slung over your shoulder and dagger twirling through your fingers. You tutted at him like you were chiding a naughty schoolboy.

“Oh, Abbett, what did you do with the money? I certainly hope you have it on you. I don’t feel like trekking through this frozen forest digging for it.”

“You cunt.” The man spat at you. “We fought those bloody Nilfgaardians to keep these farmers safe and warm. The least they can do to thank us is give up a few bloody coins and their daughters.”

You shot him again in the leg and he let out a scream.

“One more time, Abbett, the money? I can’t give those poor girls their maidenhoods again but maybe their families can offer a dowry to make them good matches.”

“Argh, bitch! It’s in the saddlebags.”

“Excellent! See, not so fucking difficult, and you saved me the nasty task of gelding you!” You took a few steps forward and shot him through the eye as you went to examine the horse and find the stolen coins.

“Ahem, hello, madam! I am Jaskier the Bard and this is my companion, Geralt of Rivia! Would you join us on our journey to the capital of Temeria? You seem like a lass with stories to tell and I’m just the fellow to put them to song.”

“Jaskier, shut the fuck up.” Geralt hissed at him.

You whipped around to the two of them and pointed your crossbow at the Witcher. “Fuck, I almost forgot about you two. Well, you’ve given me a bit of a conundrum boys. I was counting on there not being any witnesses here. These vagabonds are still wearing the king’s colors after all, and we’re close enough to the capital that that could prove to be a problem for me.” You had started to unfasten the bodice of the gown you were wearing, desperate to get out of the confining layers of cloth that had comprised your disguise. You revealed an outfit of bleached leather and furs that clung to your body.

“Oops.” Jaskier murmured, giving Geralt a sheepish grin as he raised his hands in supplication. “Geralt, friend, maybe you can talk to our new companion.”

“Right, listen, we don’t care that you just slaughtered five of the king’s soldiers, though I’m sure upon closer inspection they’ll be shown to be deserters. And as we have no desire to bring any trouble down on you, we’ll just be on our way.”

“Wait,” You called after them, tossing the rags of your gown onto the abandoned cart as you saddled your horse. “If you’re heading towards the capital, I’ll join you. I have some deliveries to make before I get out of this god-forsaken country, and that way I can keep an eye on you.” You gave them a grin as you rode up the hill to join them. “I can think of worse company than a bard and a Witcher.”

Jaskier shot a grin back at you as you joined them. “Ah, finally someone who will appreciate my talents. Tell me… um..”

“Y/N”

“Y/N, lovely, do you have any requests?”

Geralt groaned internally at the thought of being stuck with two singing idiots for the journey but was cut short by the sound of multiple bows being drawn.

“Fuck.”

“That’s far enough you three.” A captain in shining armor commanded as you came into view of a mounted regiment of king’s soldiers, accompanied by about 100 footmen who all had arrows trained on you. “What do you know about several groups of dead king’s men that have been found in these woods.”

Geralt shot you a look of reproach over his shoulder as you pointedly avoided making eye contact, examining your fingernails like they were the most interesting thing on the continent.

“There’s another group of dead soldiers in the clearing back there, captain. Looks like we’ve found our culprits.”

“Oh, just wait a minute. My grouchy friend and I were just passing through when we came upon this lovely woman being set upon by these supposed kingsmen. Granted, we considered dispatching them ourselves but our fair companion had things well in hand. Seems like she was doing your jobs for you.”

You and Geralt shared a groan. “Shut up, Jaskier.”

The captain gave a snort of derision. “You want us to believe this pretty thing has been besting the king’s chosen troops on her own for months? Take their weapons and restrain the Witcher and the woman. The bard can sing us some songs to pass the time as we travel. We’ll save this for the king to sort out.”

You gave a heavy sigh and started handing over your blades. Jaskier’s eyes started to bulge as you continued pulling smaller and smaller knives out of an increasingly absurd number of hiding places, until there was an impressive pile in front of the soldier who had been tasked with collecting your weapons.

Geralt was less forthcoming in turning over his weapons and didn’t really start until a spear prodded him in the back. He was gazing at Renfri’s blade when the captain lost his patience, and the butt of the spear whipped across the back of his head, knocking him cold.

“Put his blades with the rest of it.”

Geralt woke up with his face buried in your hair and let out a groan at the throbbing in his skull.

“What the fuck?” He lifted his head, squinting against the sun reflecting off the new fallen snow.

“Good morning, Witcher. Apparently this type of restraint has been proven to limit the ability of the restrained to extricate themselves from their bindings. You missed a fascinating lecture on it as they were tying us up.”

The two of you were bound face to face on the saddle of your massive black courser. Your arms and legs tangled around each other and wrapped in an intricate series of knots. He started trying to wrench himself free, but only succeeded in bringing you even closer to him as he let out a grunt of frustration.

“Look at the two of you, so cozy.” Jaskier rode up with a grin on his face, strumming his lute. “Do not worry yourselves, my violent friends. I am currently working on a plan to extricate the two of you from this predicament. I have the ear of the captain.”

“Are you going to annoy him to death Jaskier? Maybe if you sing that damn abortion song enough times, he’ll release us just to be rid of you.”

“You wound me, Geralt. The name of that tune is “You Think You’re Safe” and you’ll be happy to know that the captain is enamored of my talents and has asked me to regale him and his officers at their meal tonight.”

“Ah, good for you Jaskier. Make sure to sing the ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ I hear that’s a favorite of the troops.” You smiled at him, throwing him a wink.

“Oh, I knew I liked you, Y/N! See Geralt, it isn’t so hard to appreciate what I bring to the table. Thank you for your advice, sweet lady, I will be sure to take heed!” He rode off, humming to himself as he tuned his lute.

“Why would you encourage him?” Geralt growled in your ear, still fighting against his bonds.

“Ah, Witcher, you need to relax. I’m sure Jaskier’s plan will work out just fine.”

“The bard is an imbecile, the day I trust myself to any plan of his is the day I resign myself to a slow and painful death.”

“Well, be that as it may, if you don’t stop struggling, we’re going to end up in a very uncomfortable situation.” You said, giving a gasp as another jerk of your bonds brought you indecently close.

“Fuck.” He let out in a hiss, resigning himself to waiting for a better opportunity as a lock of your hair blew into his face, smelling of pine and turned earth “I don’t suppose you have any sort of plan of escape, since it’s your fault we’re in this situation.”

“Geralt, I do apologize that you have ended up in my mess. I’m so sorry that the war with Nilfgaard has caused unprecedented levels of desertion, and that the cowards that have runoff have been terrorizing and robbing the smallfolk. And I’m sorry that the king failed to listen to the pleas of his people, who had to pool together the last of their coin to contract me to come in and relieve them of their problems. But yes, this mess is entirely of my own making, and nothing to do with the colossal mismanagement of the realm of Temeria.”

“Hmmph.” He grunted into your hair. “So how are you getting us out of this mess?”

You gave him a snort. “Don’t worry that pretty head of yours Witcher, something will work out.”

“Alright, dismount.” One of the lieutenants ordered, leering at the two of you. “Hope you two have enjoyed today’s ride. I hear they’re already constructing a gibbet for you in Vizima.”

“I see the royal council has decided to do away with even the minimal farce of a trial then.”

Two soldiers had started to undo the maze of knots binding you and the Witcher together and you gave a hiss as blood started to flow back into your legs.

“An attack on the king’s army is an attack on the king. No trials for traitors to the crown.”

“You do know that neither of us are citizens of this kingdom?” Geralt asked him. “You can’t betray a monarch you don’t serve.”

“Pssh, a minor inconsistency. The king can’t be seen as soft during wartime.”

“Oh, of course not.” You murmured as the soldiers dragged you off your mount and led you to the prisoners’ tent that had been erected next to the officers’. The same intricate raveling of ropes and knots started again as they bound your upper bodies to the poles in the center of the tent. You could hear the beginnings of revelry in the officers’ pavilion when they left you.

“Well, now what?” Geralt asked you, pulling against the bonds at his wrists.

“Just, have a little patience.” You chided him, leaning against your pole in as relaxed of a pose as you could achieve.

“You did hear that they plan on executing us once they get us back to the capital?”

“No, Geralt, I missed that.” You spat at him as you heard Jaskier start to sing and gave a small smile. “Excellent, let’s hope he leaves the good stuff until they’re well and drunk.”

“What are you talking about, Y/N?” He asked you, still trying to wrench himself free.

“For fucks’ sake, give it a rest. Apparently the royal knot tyers are the only members of this army who haven’t fallen lax in their duties.” You rolled your eyes at him. “Just give it a half hour and we’ll give you a chance to get out all the pent up aggression.”

“So you do have a plan? Any chance you want to let me in on it?”

“I think I’ll leave it for a surprise.”

The two of you sat there listening as the sounds of drunken celebration filled the camp. It only took 20 minutes for the revelry to reach a dull roar, and a smile crept over your face when you heard the first refrains of ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’.

“Ah, Jaskier, perfect timing.” You muttered.

The song started speeding up and spread through the regiment. You heard the soldiers start clapping along and seized your moment, bending your legs and driving your back into the post you were bound to at each clap, starting to shift it out of the ground with each drive of your shoulders.

Geralt finally seized on your idea and joined you in wrenching his post out of the ground. Within a few rounds of the song, they were loosened enough for you to drag them out of their anchors, causing the tent to collapse around you. You slipped your bonds over the ends of the posts and unraveled yourselves. Geralt gave you a look of appreciation as you hefted your post, flung the folds of the fallen tent off yourself and whipped the post around to take out the two guards that had been posted at the entrance.

“Well, let’s find our weapons, shall we?” You said, giving him a grin.

Apparently, your appraisal of the army had been accurate; you ran into minimal resistance as you made your way to the weapons tent and managed to knock out the only sentries you encountered before Geralt had a chance to react.

“Ah, my babies.” You said to yourself as you started resheathing the ridiculous number of knives you had accumulated for yourself, kissing each blade before you returned it to its rightful place.

“How can you possibly be comfortable wearing all of that steel?” Geralt asked you around a grin, watching you tuck a dirk between your breasts and wondering how you managed to not cut yourself.

“I’m a woman traveling the continent alone, Witcher. I’ve found that the element of surprise is my friend, and there’s nothing quite as surprising as an unexpected knife between the ribs.”

He actually laughed at that, strapping one sword to his back and one to his hip as you hefted your crossbow and loaded it with a bolt before heading back out into the snow.

You were met by the surprised faces of a drunken group of soldiers who were wending their way through the tents, arms around each other as the slurred the lyrics to their favorite song. You shot the first through the chest as you drew your longsword over your shoulder and you dropped your crossbow to the ground, slashing the second across the face before they finally regained their composure and sounded the alarm.

Geralt drew his blades and clashed with three of the remaining soldiers as you grappled with the other two. He managed to drive his long sword through one of their chests before the other two had a chance to converge on him and he struggled to drive them apart with his fists to allow himself room to maneuver. One of his opponents went down suddenly with a dagger through his throat and Geralt threw a look your way to see your first opponent down and missing an eye as you drove your knee into the chest of your second opponent, driving him into a post as you brought your sword around and ran it across his throat.

Geralt threw his assailant over his shoulder and rammed his blade through his chest as you let out a shrill whistle and hefted your crossbow as the sound of hoofbeats rose through the camp. Roach and your courser came charging around the bend suddenly and you latched onto your steed’s mane and swung yourself onto his back as Geralt vaulted onto Roach’s. You turned suddenly and led him back towards the officers’ pavilion as drunken soldiers did their best to pursue you.

“We almost forgot the fucking bard!” You grinned at him as you hopped off your horse and slashed through the back of the officers’ tent. You emerged seconds later with a terrified looking Jaskier, who you tossed over the back of your mount like a sack of potatoes before leaping up behind him and kicking your steed to a gallop.

“Either of you want to fill me in on what the fuck is happening?!” Jaskier shrieked as he bounced around.

The two of you ignored him as you rode on. You set a punishing pace through the whole night, not looking back until you crossed the river into the kingdom of Redania as the sun rose and you finally allowed your horses to slow their pace to a walk, dismounting to give them a rest.

“If my lute is damaged, I’ll never forgive you.” Jaskier whined as he inspected his instrument, hobbling along as he tried to adjust after the unceremonious thrashing he had taken during the ride.

“Jaskier, a little thanks should be in order. Y/N and I did save you from a rather nasty execution after all.” Geralt grinned at him as he walked beside you, Roach nuzzling him in the shoulder as he patted her snout.

“I told the two of you, I had the captain’s ear, I would have been able to talk us out of any trouble.”

You gave him a snort as your courser butted his head into yours, begging for his own pats. “Jaskier, you would have been strung up right beside us. Just think though, this little adventure has the makings of a great song, eh? I’ll buy you a nice hot meal and a bath at the inn we’re coming up on.”

“Well, I’d never say no to a bath. How close is this inn?”

“Just over the next hill.”

You arrived within an hour and made arrangements for the horses as Jaskier headed in to arrange rooms and meals for the three of you.

Geralt and you headed into the inn and you grabbed the two of you the largest mugs of beer you could arrange before joining Jaskier at a table and tearing into the trencher of bread.

“So, good news first.” The bard said. “I arranged for nice, hot baths for all three of us, in addition to our meals. The only thing is, they only had two rooms.”

Geralt let out a groan at that. “Fine, bard, I guess the two of us are sharing accommodations for the next few days then.”

“Aah, well. I figured, with you two having grown so close during our little journey, that you wouldn’t mind sharing the much, much larger room whilst I make due with the tiny, lonely room myself that I’ve already had them unload my things into.”

The two of you shot him equally reproachful looks over your mugs of beer as a barmaid arrived to let him know his bath was ready.

“Ah, splendid. Well, you two enjoy your breakfasts. I’m going to take a very long nap after my bath and I’ll see you this afternoon, or maybe even tomorrow.”

A whole roasted chicken arrived and the two of you tore into it without a word, polishing it off quickly as you hadn’t realized how famished you were.

“I’ll arrange for them to bring up the hot water for baths for us.” You told Geralt as you stood up and stretched, downing the last of your beer.

“I’m fine without.” The Witcher grumbled at you.

You gave him a derisive chuckle. “If we’re bedding together for the two days it’ll take for the horses to rest up, you’re bathing yourself at least once, I don’t need to smell everywhere you’ve been in the past month.”

He gave an uncomfortable shrug of his shoulders as he followed you upstairs. It had been a while since he’d spent the night with a woman he wasn’t paying, and there was something about you he found disarming. Endearing, but disarming nonetheless.

“Ah, at least there’s two tubs.” You said gleefully as you entered the room. A group of attendants arrived a moment later, carrying four large buckets of steaming water between them that they emptied into the copper tubs before taking their leave.

You started by pulling off your supple boots and Geralt turned his back as he began to unlace his jerkin. He heard you give a soft laugh behind him. “Are we really going to pretend like neither of us have seen a naked body before, Witcher?”

He whipped around at the amusement in your voice. You had removed your corset and sleeves and were down to nothing but a thin linen tunic on top. He tried not to stare at the shape of your breasts moving beneath the fabric as you worked at unlacing your breeches. You shot him a wicked look through your lashes as you moved your fingers back to unstrap the multiple sheathes that had been hidden beneath your bodice.

He did his best to ignore you as he ripped his jerkin off over his head. He made easy work of his tunic and breeches and sank into the tub while you were still working on undoing the intricate trappings of your hidden arsenal.

“I really don’t see how you can be comfortable in all of that Y/N.” He chided you as you removed the final straps and drew your tunic over your head before shimmying out of your breeches. He did his best to keep his eyes occupied elsewhere as you stepped into your own bath, hissing at the heat.

“Comfort is a matter of individual preference, dear. Oh, that’s wonderful.” You sank into the water with a sigh and dunked your head under before coming back up with a gasp.

“So, you going to tell me how you ended up with a warhorse, enough steel to equip a small band of thieves, and the strength to wield a tentpole like a damn quarterstaff, or is that something I’ll have to guess at?” He asked as he dumped a bucket over his head and ran the water through his hair before shaking it back out and splashing you, making you yelp.

“I think I’ll keep that my little secret for now, Geralt. Maybe if you buy me a few strongales over the next few days I’ll regale you with my tale of woe.” You let out a sigh as you felt your muscles relax. “Maybe I’ll get you to tell me your history as well. I hear the Redanians have a liquor that will light your chest on fire and make you forget the seasons.”

He gave a laugh and settled his head back against the tub. “You think you can outdrink me girl, you’re in for a nasty surprise… fuck.” He hadn’t heard you leave your tub and sat up startled when you crawled into his, sloshing water over the sides.

“Oh, Geralt, you’ll find that I’m full of surprises.” You said before pressing your mouth to his softly and giving a gentle sigh.

He got over his surprise quickly and wrapped his arms around you, pressing you to him fiercely as he growled against your lips.

You gave him a small laugh as you moved your lips down the line of his jaw to his neck, running your teeth along his collarbone before nipping at him softly as your hands moved down the plains of his chest, dipping below the water to take his cock in your grasp. He gave you a satisfying moan as you did so and you began sliding your hand up and down his length slowly as you raised a small bruise on his shoulder with your mouth.

He bucked his hips up into your hand as you increased your pace and you moved your other hand below the water to play with his balls. You leaned against his chest and gazed up at him with heavy lids as you watched him come apart under your ministrations.

He arched his back and gave a heavy moan as he came in your hand and you grinned against his chest as he softened, planting soft kisses along his throat as he came down and his breathing slowed.

He swallowed thickly and grinned at you before scooping his arms underneath you and lifting you out of the tub easily, making you shriek with glee before he dropped you unceremoniously on the large bed and pounced on top of you, nuzzling himself into the skin below your ear as his large hands skimmed down the sides of your torso before coming to rest on your hips and kneading them, raising bruises on your soft skin.

He brought one hand between the two of you and ran his fingers through the soft hair of your mound before rubbing them between your folds, making you arch into him as you let out a thin whine, fluttering your lashes as you gazed at him. He grinned down at you as he inserted two fingers at an agonizingly slow pace and you moaned as he started fucking them into you, curling them against that sweet, spongy spot each time.

He added another finger as he buried his face in your hair, inhaling your clean scent as you mewled and whimpered, begging him for more. He started strumming your clit with his thumb and you writhed underneath him, doing your best to grind your cunt into him as his fingers stretched you.

It was almost too much when he added the fourth finger and you wrapped your hands in his silver hair, pressing his face to your neck as you cried silently. He moved his mouth back to yours as he increased his speed and pressure on your tiny bud, moving his tongue softly past your lips and tangling it with yours. You came around him, clenching down on his fingers in your release as all the breath rushed out of you. He felt you go rigid beneath him before you collapsed back against the bed with a sigh.

“You think you’re ready for me sweetheart?” He asked as he kissed your neck, moving his hands up to palm your breasts.

You pulled his head back by his hair and gave him a grin before squeezing his sides with your thighs and rolling until you were on top of him, straddling his hips.

You sat up over him and he groaned at the sight of you, soft skin moving over lean muscle, a patchwork of faint scars covering your torso. He ran his thumb over an especially noticeable one that ran over your ribs below your left breast as you guided him to your entrance and sheathed his length inside you suddenly, making him hiss.

You started grinding against him, rubbing your clit against his pubic bone before you started fucking yourself on his cock. He tossed his head back with a moan and a murmured “Fuck” as his hands moved to your hips and guided your thrusts, meeting your hips with his own as he rutted up into you.

He sat up suddenly and pressed you to him as he knelt beneath you, staring into your eyes with lust blown pupils, a thin golden ring around a pool of deep black. You wrapped your legs around his back as he fucked up into you at a faster pace, making it hard for you to breathe.

He wrenched your head down to his and crashed his mouth against yours, his tongue invading you hungrily as you felt your pleasure starting to coil in your abdomen and you whimpered into his mouth.

He felt you starting to clench around him and moved a hand between you to strum at your clit. It only took a moment and you were flying apart around him, every muscle below your waist spasming as your orgasm wracked you and you cried into his mouth. His release was right behind yours as his hips stilled and you felt his spend spurting into you, coating your velvety walls in his release with a feral growl.

He collapsed back on the bed, still holding you to him as you both came down from you pleasure, breathing heavily as your hearts pounded together. You propped your chin on his chest and gave him a sinful grin that he returned, planting a kiss on the top of your head as you started to untangle yourselves.

“Well, if all your surprises are that pleasant, Y/N, I can’t wait to find out more.” He said to you over his shoulder as he stood up from the bed, grabbing a towel to finish drying himself off. He tossed you one and you ran it softly between your thighs, cleaning the mixture of your releases from your slit as you grinned back at him.

“My dear Witcher, I aim to please.” You threw a wink at him before you stood up and stretched. “I arranged for some clean clothes to be brought up, could you check the door for them?”

He peeked his head out and brought in two sets of soft woolens, tossing one to you. You yanked a tunic over your head before stepping into the clean pair of breeches. You decided to forgo most of your blades for the moment, opting for a simple belt that contained two daggers once you had finished lacing up your bodice.

“Shall we head down for more ale?”

“Gods yes, what else do you know about this storied Redanian liquor?”

You gave him a throaty laugh as you headed down to the main room and lute music floated up to meet you.

“Ah, Y/N! Geralt! My friends! Join us for a song won’t you? Y/N, I still want to hear you sing ‘The Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for us, eh? Oh Fishmonger, Oh Fishmonger, Come Quell your Daughter’s Hunger”

“Gods, Jaskier, aren’t you sick of that song yet?” Geralt growled half heartedly

“Pull the stick out of your ass, Witcher. C’mon, Jaskier. To pull on my horn, as it rises in the morn!”

“What a lovely voice you have my lady! For tis naught but bad luck, to fuck with a puck!”

The Witcher rolled his eyes at the two of you as he headed to the bar and the rest of the patrons joined in. What he wouldn’t give to never hear this abominable tune ever again.

“Lest your grandkid be born, a hairy young faun! Bleating and baying all day, hey ho!”

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